


Ready to Leap

by Loverontheleft



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, Mildly Explicit Language, fluff for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 146,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loverontheleft/pseuds/Loverontheleft
Summary: Technically a tumblr request, but this will be multiple chapters, so I'm giving it its own work. AU where both Brendon and the reader are high school teachers, and when they meet, the attraction is immediate. Fluffy for now with one hint of smut in Ch 1, but the smut will come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is https://loverontheleft.tumblr.com/ - I love talking and am always open to requests!

Are you overdressed? Teachers at your last school were in professional wear even on teacher workdays so that’s the standard you’ve been taught. But what if these people are more relaxed and you look ridiculous and everyone judges you and - no. Calm down. Breathe. You look fine. You smooth your hands down over your skirt and check the mirror. No lipstick on your teeth. Here you go.

Your mentor teacher, (you both laughed at the term since you’ve both been teaching for 5 years and you’re just new to the school), is waiting for you with two cups of coffee in her hands.

“Good morning Ms. Milton! I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee so…”

You beam at her. First, the coffee. Second, she is definitely dressed on the same level as you. “Good morning Gina! Black is fine, thank you so much.” You take the mug gratefully and inhale, instantly calmed. “So, principal’s email said we’re meeting in the cafeteria?”

“Yep! Let’s go, we want to get good seats.” She grabs your wrist and off you go, not realizing there were good seats in a professional development meeting until she stops at the back. “Here we go. Perfect.” You laugh and she looks at you seriously. “No, really. Best seats in the house. We’ve got a clear view of where Frank will be standing so we look like we’re listening faithfully, but we’re also closest to the food and one end of the arts hallway as an escape. You look around and see the buffet on one side, waiting to be covered in complimentary breakfast, and the double doors that presumably lead to the aforementioned arts hallway on the other. The doors are covered in paint spatters and black cutouts of musical notes, drama masks, ballet shoes, and cameras. Yep. It checks out.

Other teachers - your new colleagues - file into the room and the back fills first. Everyone is dressed like you, thank god. You’re looking around casually, just taking it all in, playing “guess the subject” (you are pretty good, you can spot a social studies teacher from a mile away) when the arts doors swing open. Your eyes go wide. Possibly the most beautiful man you have ever seen has just walked through them and is glancing around for an empty seat. You curse the fact that your table is full and cast your eyes down. Don’t stare. Fuck. He turns away and you can look again, studying from the back and trying to remember, to take it all in. Dark hair, carefully-but-not-too-carefully styled in an almost-pompadour, dark eyes, lashes that make you more than a little jealous, high cheekbones, a jawline carved by angels, and fuck those lips. Clothes are simple; black dress pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up enough to give you a glimpse of vibrant tattoos. He doesn’t teach art; clothes would be different. Maybe theatre? He’s ruining your focus and your game with his fucking gorgeous face. You turn to Gina, arguably in a trance. “Who is he?”

She smiles a little. “Mr. Urie. Brendon. He teaches music.” You nod; you can see it. She says nothing else and you look at her expectantly. “I can’t really give you anything else; no one really knows him that well since he lives on the arts hall. He is so committed to our band program though, we’ve placed at state every year he’s been with us, and the kids just adore him. They rave about his class, how funny and how real he is, even during music appreciation which is famously boring.”

You can’t help it - “I don’t think it’s the music they’re appreciating.” You cover your mouth, embarrassment on your face. Gina starts laughing.

“You’re probably right.”

Your principal comes up to get the meeting started and as predicted, he wants to introduce new faculty members. He runs through the list and when he gets to your name followed by “English department,” you stand as expected and give a little wave. You pivot and as you turn you catch his eye. He smiles but you can’t make much of that; everyone is smiling in welcome. But his eyes. Fuck. You sit back down and smooth your skirt over your knees and grab a pen to take notes as the principal keeps talking.

Gina elbows you. “This will all be in the email Jess sends out after.”

“I’m a nerd; I have to take notes or I won’t remember.” She grins and settles back, telling you to knock yourself out.

Hours. He’s been talking for hours. Gina has been reading over your shoulder and stifles her giggles when your pen starts to slide aimlessly down the page. “It’ll all be in the email?” Your whisper sounds desperate and she nods. “Praise.”

Just as you give up and stash your pen, Frank stops talking and tells everyone to enjoy the rest of the day in their classrooms, getting them ready for their students. Gina drags you to your your feet and suddenly you’re down the arts hall. “Thank god that’s over. Love Frank but Jesus.” You’re walking fast to keep up with her and you note that it is only two right turns off of the arts hall until you’re on the English hall and mere steps until you’re at your door. “You’re good? You’ve got everything you need?” Gina looks at you questioningly and you nod.

“Oh yeah, I brought in all my decor last week. Just gotta start pulling records and working on pacing guides.”

She matches your smile and taps lightly on your door. “Well, if you need me, I’m across the hall and one door back.” She points back down the hall towards and you nod. “We usually go as a department for lunch; I’ll grab you.” And with that, she’s gone.

You turn, taking in the empty room. All of your posters and bulletin boards are done; you came in last week and you’re proud of yourself for being proactive. Now you can focus on content. You smile. It’s a new year at a new school and you’re teaching your favorite level (seniors, British literature), and there’s a cute guy one hall over from you. Things are good.

“Fuck.” You’ve been sitting behind your desk for what feels like hours and you are totally unmotivated. The problem is, you know your first week routine like the back of your hand. You know every detail down to your facial expressions. You don’t feel rushed or on a deadline, so you’re letting your mind wander.

“Knock knock.” You glance up and your breath catches. He’s leaning in your door frame, a soft smile playing on those fucking lips. “Figured I’d come introduce myself officially.” He comes into the room, crossing it confidently and stopping short at your desk. You stand and he extends a hand. “Brendon. Uh, Urie. Mr. Urie, I guess?” He grins and you take his hand.

“Y/n. Uh, Milton. Ms. Milton, I guess?” You echo him and he laughs, meeting your eyes and leaning against your desk.

“That’s fitting for an English teacher.” He glances around your room, taking it all in. “British literature?” You nod. “Milton,” he repeats. “Paradise Lost. What a masterpiece.” He catches your surprised look and grins. “I paid attention in my required English courses. Loved Paradise Lost.” You notice your hand is still in his (no ring, thank god) and he’s tugging you closer. “You know, the whole fall from grace, raging against higher powers, the struggle with…” his eyes flick to your lips and you know what’s coming, fuck, you know what’s coming - “temptation?” You can’t breathe. He stands, catching your lips in his softly. He urges your lips apart and you gasp when his tongue brushes yours. He turns you so you’re seated on your desk and deepens the kiss, his hands in your hair.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe into his mouth.

“You okay?” He pulls back a little, resting his forehead against yours. You nod, a little short of breath, and he smiles. Gently, he runs a hand down the side of your face, just watching you. “You’re beautiful.” His lips are on yours again but his hand, once cupping your face, is now wandering. “Tell me if this isn’t okay,” he murmurs against your mouth.

You moan a little, and wrap a hand around the back of his neck, holding him close. His hand traces over the swell of your breasts and you can’t believe this is happening but you are definitely okay with it.

His hand curls over your hip now, and he pulls you to the edge of your desk so he can step between your legs, hand stroking your thigh over your skirt. “Ms. Milton, I think I’m hot for teacher.” He’s left your lips and is whispering this against your neck, where he’s placing featherlight kisses.

“Goddamn,” you hiss, closing your eyes and relishing his touch.

“You okay?” But it isn’t Mr. Urie’s voice this time, it’s Gina’s. Your eyes slide open and she looks at you, an eyebrow raised. “Department is headed to lunch. There’s a great Mexican place downtown.”

You shake your head a little, clearing the fantasy out and you stand. “Sounds great.” You grab your purse and head for the door. “I probably need to eat something; I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

Gina links her arm through yours merrily. “Sounds to me like we need queso as an appetizer. For your health, of course.”

“Hell yeah,” you laugh and let her lead the way.

Lunch is good; it’s exactly what you need. Your department colleagues are hilarious, lively, and are the people who you’d choose to hang out with. They all have margaritas at lunch and you do as well. You like this group. They’re really interested in you as a person, and you can tell this is going to be a good professional environment for you. No more eating alone in your classroom to avoid awkward stilted conversation with coworkers.

By the time you get back to your room, you’re feeling motivated and you set to work, paying careful attention to revamping your lessons on Paradise Lost. You’ve got a full week ahead of you, between faculty and department meetings and your meetings with various resource teachers, and especially your lesson planning. Your colleagues are great and you find yourself collaborating and enhancing things you didn’t even know could be enhanced.

The week does fly by and before you even know it, the first day is here. Your first and second block goes well, and you have third block planning. You grab a copy of your syllabus and head to make more copies. There’s a lounge with a copier at the corner of English and Arts, so you head for it, humming to yourself. Everything is going smoothly. Until it’s not. The copier jams and you swear under your breath. This isn’t the same machine you had at your old school; you have no idea how to fix it - at least not quickly. You start looking for movable panels or instructions or anything, anything that will help you. There’s nothing. “Fucking hell,” and you’re louder this time.

“Well swearing at the poor thing won’t fix it.” The drawl behind you is lighthearted and you turn on your heel. He’s leaning against the doorframe, grinning at you. Fuck. You blink, and he’s still there. You shake your head a little, and he’s still there. “You okay?” He looks concerned and you nod.

“Yeah, sorry. Tension headache coming on. I’m Y/n Milton. English department.”

“I remember.” He’s smiling softly. “Brendon Urie, Arts. Music specifically.” He holds out his hand and you take it, shaking it. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now, step aside Ms. Milton, I’ve got this.” He grins and mimes cracking his knuckles before kneeling and setting to work on the copier.

“I was in band in school,” you volunteer, watching him work. He looks back at you, hands still moving. This copier must break down a lot.

“Oh yeah?” He looks mildly interested. “What’d you play?” His eyes flick back to the copier quickly and he pulls something out to check it.

“Trumpet. Started in 5th and played through college.”

He rocks back on his heels. “Huh. Wouldn’t have guessed that.” You grin.

“People are usually surprised, yeah. But I loved it. Thought about studying it in college but I’m too much of a book nerd to walk away. I did jazz and pep band though.” He nods thoughtfully.

“I get that. That’s how I was with chemistry and music. I was really good in chem, took AP. But I couldn’t walk away from music. It just has me. I didn’t volunteer in the lab or anything though. I gave myself fully over to music.” His eyes look far away and you’re not sure what to say. He glances back at machine. “Well, you’re all set.” He stands, wiping his hands. Sure enough, the machine is happily spitting out your copies and you smile at him.

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” He shrugs, giving you a lopsided grin.

“It’s nothing. See you at lunch duty.” And with a quick salute, he’s back out the lounge door.

Oh. That’s right. You have lunch duty this week. You’re kind of grateful, seeing as everyone tells you it will help with getting lost. And apparently Mr. Urie will be joining you. Interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My blog is https://loverontheleft.tumblr.com/ - I love talking and am always open to requests!

The bell for the end of second lunch chimes (actually chimes! At your old school, it was like the Luftwaffe had been spotted!) and you know that’s your cue to head to the cafeteria. Gina didn’t tell you much, just to meet your “partner” at the cafeteria entrance and they’d walk you through the rest of it. She also said you wouldn’t get lost after lunch duty so that’s a plus. A mysterious plus, but a plus nonetheless.

You can’t take the back way using the arts hall so you set off at a brisk pace, fairly confident you’ll find the cafeteria.

You’re only a minute late and you can see Mr. Urie - Brendon? - standing by the doors. “So sorry I’m late, I got a little lost.” He grins and waves off your apology.

“No worries. It’s a complicated school setup. Lunch duty should help though.” He gestures for you to follow him and you do.

“Yeah, you know, people keep saying that and I’m not sure I understand. How will sitting in a cafeteria making sure there’s no food fights help me?” He turns to you, smiling and handing you a clipboard with referrals on it.

“Because we’re not sitting in the cafeteria. We’re roaming the halls for skippers!” He looks almost gleeful and you suppress the laughter.

“We’re doing what?” You take the clipboard and stare at him.

“School policy is that during a student’s assigned lunch period, they must be in the cafeteria. They can’t be roaming the halls, getting up to who knows what mischief. So our job is to walk the halls and look for kids out and about. Capture. Scold. Refer. Release.” He ticks off the four steps on his fingers and you can’t help but laugh now.

“That is actually not a bad system,” you admit and he nods.

“And you get to know your coworkers.” He gives you a wide smile. “Off we go Ms. Milton.”

You keep pace, matching his stride. “Yeah…about that actually…so at my old school my colleagues and I called each other by our first names no matter who was around. Guessing that’s not a thing here?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know that there’s any official policy on that. We try to keep it professional when the youth are afoot,” he casts his eyes around in exaggerated suspicion and you giggle, “but if there’s no students around, first names are usually used.” He looks down. “You were in band.” His voice sounds approving and you must look confused because he continues. “You’re on step and matching my stride.”

You smile. “Old habits die hard, and I’m with a pro right now so…” He laughs a little and you feel yourself blushing. Damn, he’s attractive. “Speaking of old habits…” you begin, and he looks at you. “I remember all of the volunteers and money my band program had to have to keep us running. So if I can ever help or if you’ve got a fundraiser going, fruit or cheesecake or cookie dough or whatever, I’d be happy to help.”

He chuckles. “You have great timing. We have a fundraiser this afternoon into the evening and all day tomorrow. It’s our Welcome Back All You Can Eat Fish Fry.” This title is accompanied by Fosse-style hands, despite the clipboard. “Ten dollars gets you in the door and access to bottomless fries, hush puppies, coleslaw, various soft drinks, and of course, fish.”

You stare at him. “You can’t possibly make money off of that. Only ten dollars?” He nods, proud.

“The entire community comes and people in neighboring towns do too. We’re legendary.” He pauses to adapt a faux-humble look and you roll your eyes playfully. God, it is so easy with him. How does he do this? “We’re making a profit after the first hundred or two hundred people and we usually sell anywhere from a thousand to fifteen hundred tickets. This year is a record at eighteen hundred.” You must look stunned. “I know. It’s insane. But it works and the kids don’t have to do fundraisers every other month, which I appreciate. Lets them focus on the music and not worry about money.”

“That’s incredible. Really.” You stop walking and he pauses too. “Is what I’m wearing okay? I’d love to come by tonight but I don’t want to be overdressed. An All You Can Eat Fish Fry,” you mimic his hands from earlier and he laughs, “sounds sort of…casual.” He looks you up and down, taking in your three-quarter sleeve blouse and pencil skirt and he nods.

“You look great. Don’t go home and change for us. Just come hang out.”

“Okay. I will.” You smile at each other and you’re screaming internally, so proud of yourself for not acting like an idiot in front of this gorgeous man. “So…where are we?” You look around and he laughs.

“This is downstairs of the science wing. Think of the cafeteria as your starting point. It’s anchored to the main office by the media center. Everything else sprouts from the anchor points in triangles or squares. End of the art hall connects to the English hall, across the yard is the math and science triangle, social studies is upstairs above math, and computer-related electives are above science.” He catches your eye. “I think we lost a bet when we hired the architect for the school. Because…the look on your face? Yeah. It’s a mess. Also we’re almost done with our patrol and we’re right on schedule.”

“I’m going to get so lost. If you hear a pathetic cry of ‘help’ echoing down the halls, it’s me. Come find me.”

“You won’t get lost. Much. But if you need me, do give a shout. Oh.” He pauses. “The other side of the building has PE and ROTC and weight training.” He looks at you seriously. “We don’t go over there. We are soft artsy people who like to read books. We don’t go there.” You can feel your face and understand why he starts laughing. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I don’t go over there much.” You both start walking again.

“I’ve heard you don’t leave the band room unless it’s for band practice or duty.” You slide your eyes over to watch his face.

“My reputation precedes me, I see. Whoever you heard that from isn’t wrong. I have a large office with a bathroom in the band room, the back doors of the classroom lead to the practice field, I have a parking spot right by the back doors, and this band program is my life so…” He looks a little embarrassed. “Yes, you can call me Urie the Hermit.”

You giggle. “I refuse to call you that. I was just curious.”

He spreads his arms wide. “Ask away, Ms. Milton. I’m an open book.”

You can’t help it, it’s too easy. “I’m really good with books.”

He smiles softly. “I kinda hoped so.” You hesitate, not sure where to go from here. Fuck. His eyes are sparkling and you are like a deer in the headlights. He saves you though. “We’re back.” You’re outside the cafeteria again and he takes your clipboard and drops them off inside. “I’ll walk you back to your room so you don’t get lost,” he offers and you nod faintly. It is a short walk, you realize, when you don’t get lost, and you’re there sooner than you’d like. “Home safe and sound. See you tonight Milton. I’ll save you the good fish.” He gives you a little wave, a small smile, and walks back to the art hall.

You haven’t moved yet. Was he flirting? You think he was flirting. Fuck. That last part, he kinda hoped you’re good with books - that sounded like flirting, right? And he walked you back to your room. Fuck. He’s really hot. Fuck. It’s fourth lunch which is your assigned lunch so you hurry back to the English lounge to join your hall-mates and try to ignore your thoughts of a certain tattooed, dark-haired colleague.

Lunch is fun, fourth block goes smoothly, and before you know it, it’s the end of the day. What a good first day, you think. You go back to your desk and sit, trying to organize everyone’s interest surveys and their writing samples. There’s a hesitant knocking at your door and your head shoots up.

It’s a student you don’t recognize (admittedly that’s all of them at this point) and he’s holding a small piece of paper in his hand. “Mr. Urie asked me to bring this down to you.” He crosses the room hesitantly. You don’t know this kid but he’s a freshman. You can see it in his walk. Ah, freshmen. You accept it and read the post-it note attached.

“Milton - all of the fish is good. Would have brought this myself but I’m assembling the troops. Hope to see you tonight.” It’s attached to a ticket and you blush. The student shifts awkwardly.

“Thanks!” You smile at him, and he reads on your face that he’s free to go, nothing more is required of him. He bolts. You read the note attached to the ticket again, and smile to yourself before shaking your head a little. No. Down girl. He’s being friendly to a new coworker. Don’t read into this. Fuck.

The doors don’t open til 5:30 and it’s only 3:45 now. You decide to start evaluating writing prompts. That’s good. That’ll distract you.

And it does. You grade meticulously, eyes scanning the page, different colored pens flying and coding. Without moving your head you shift the paper to the ‘finished’ stack and bring the next over. When you finally look up, it’s dark out. You check your watch. It’s 6:30. They’re going to be there until 9, but still. The ticket tells you to head for the cafeteria and you’re pleased. You know how to get there!

When you walk in, you’re amazed. The smells, first of all. God bless whoever invented fried food. But also, all of the people. He wasn’t lying. It’s packed. You approach the student taking tickets and hand her yours and a ten dollar bill. “No, you don’t need to pay,” she protests, “you have a ticket.”

You shrug and smile brightly at her. “Consider it a donation then.” She shrugs too.

“Okay, thanks! You’re the new English teacher right?” You nod. “My older sister has you. Emily. She likes you. She’s sitting over there with our parents. Do you have anyone to sit with? You can sit with us. My shift is done in twenty minutes. I’m Becca.” You rack your brain. Emily. Emily. Emily. Ah, yes. Emily. Emily is on a 504 plan for ADHD. It’s genetic, it would seem. They’re sweet girls.

“Thanks so much Becca. I appreciate that. I probably will come sit with your family.” She beams at you and hands you a styrofoam cup and tells you to grab a seat, someone will be over to take your order shortly.

You work your way through the crowd (and that’s not an exaggeration) and pause at the table with Emily and her family. Her face lights up when she sees you. “Ms. Milton! I didn’t know you were coming! Sit with us!” You accept the offer and introduce yourself to her parents. As promised, a band student comes by to take your order and you’re content. Emily’s parents are lovely, the families around you are lovely (some of them are the families of your students so you’re particularly happy to meet them), the food is good, and you’re at peace. You can see Brendon walking around, greeting each table. You can’t hear what he’s saying but you can read his expression and you’re sure he’s thanking them for coming. He’s changed out of his dress shirt (today’s was a soft pewter; it reminded you of a storm above the ocean but you didn’t mention this) and into a band polo shirt. More of his tattoos are showing but you can’t quite make them out at this angle. Good lordEmily answers the question you haven’t asked. “Mom, Dad, be cool when Mr. Urie comes over. He’s really cool. Just. Don’t be weird….please.”

You make eye contact with her mom and you both grin. Emily is 17? Seems about right. And you’re pleased, he hasn’t been to this table yet. You’ll see him.

He sees you first though and smiles when your eyes meet. “One second,” he mouths and you blush. He didn’t need to…but you’re glad he did.

Time. Fucking. Drags.

And then, he’s there. He’s shaking hands with the parents, greeting Emily and Becca, who has returned by this point, introducing himself to other families before turning his focus to you. Those eyes. Fucking hell he can probably read your mind. “Ms. Milton, thank you so much for coming. It means a lot to the students to see their other teachers supporting them.” Becca and Emily enthuse behind him and you smile. “And it means a lot to me, to see my colleagues supporting the program,” he adds and you feel warm and tingly all over. You’ll support any program he’s running, shit.

“Well, thank you for the ticket. It was generous. How could I possibly refuse?” Your eyes connect and he smiles, saying he has to greet others but he’ll try to come back. This last part is directed to the table but you’re pretty sure it’s for your benefit. You hope. Fuck.

It’s been an hour. You can’t take another single bite. You’re down for the count. Emily laughs. “Ms. Milton, two plates? That’s weak. That’s not even close to the record.”

You look at her, amused. “I didn’t come to break records. I came for good food and to support the band program.” You pause. “What is the record?”

Brendon’s voice comes from behind. “Mr. Taylor, the chemistry teacher, holds it. It’s 28 plates.”

Your eyes widen and Emily and her family laugh. Brendon drops down into a now empty seat next to you. “That’s impossible.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Served him myself. He came in and said he wanted to break the record and I said I wanted to see him break it, so I would serve him.” There’s a question bubbling up behind your lips and he anticipates it. “The record prior was 12. I just wanted to see how far he’d go. He never asked what it was, so I just let him go for it.”

Everyone at your table is laughing. “That’s evil,” you manage and he shrugs, giving you that stupid, heartstopping crooked smile. “But amazing.”

“I have to entertain myself sometimes.” His eyes meet yours and you can’t breathe. Those lashes. Those lips. Did he just bite his lip? No. Surely he didn’t. But he did. Fuck. Fuck. You’re sitting with parents and students, you’re not alone in an empty hallway, you cannot flirt with him. Fuck.

“Well, you seem to do a good job of it.” You smile and stand, stretching a little. He stands too and you file that away. A gentleman, okay Urie, noted. “I need to head home. Day two is always more tiring than day one!” Your voice is cheerful though, and you say your goodbyes to everyone, give Brendon the same little wave he left you with earlier, and start working your way towards the exit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My blog is https://loverontheleft.tumblr.com/ - I love talking and am always open to requests!
> 
> PS. I recommend watching this at some point: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IlWF2ewhyw

“Son of a bitch.” The copier is jammed again. You try desperately to remember how Brendon fixed it last time (there’s been at least four times in between the first day of school and this moment where he has come to your rescue) and you remember watching his arms and fingers working but you can’t recall what they were actually doing. Fuck. You manage to find the front panel but it’s a maze of knobs and pulleys and trays and knowing your luck, you’ll just screw it up more. You stand up and cross to the bathroom. Hair is okay, it’s pulled back in a loose bun. Makeup is fine, you look a little tired but that’s to be expected. Outfit is your normal sleeveless blouse/skirt combo. Okay. You look presentable. Time to head to the band room.

When you arrive, the door is shut and you can hear a heavy bass sound coming through the door. You think about knocking but know he won’t hear you, so you try the knob. It opens and you make a mental note to teasingly (but not really) reprimand him for violating the school safety policy but all thoughts leave your head and your mouth goes dry when you see him behind the elaborate drum kit, playing like his life depends upon it. Holy shit. His shirt sleeves are rolled up (you’re beginning to think this is his norm and you like it) and there’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead and fuck, he is good. He looks up, his eyes narrowed in focus, and then he spots you. He drops one of the sticks, it seems accidentally, but then drops the other on purpose. “Well hello, Ms. Milton.” He wipes his brow and stands up with a broad smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It takes you a moment to form a coherent thought. “What are you doing?” You finally manage and he raises an eyebrow, amused. No, you didn’t come to ask him that and it’s obvious anyway, focus. “I mean. I’m here because the copier…” you trail off feebly, still looking at him. Is his shirt clinging to his chest? Jesus. No. You’re imagining that. Right?

He grins. “And you’re in need of my particular set of skills. Got it.” He flexes his fingers and is crossing the room when he answers your first question. “I was playing to blow off some steam. Drums always help me calm down.”

“What were you - never mind, it’s none of my business.” You wave your hand in the air as if to shoo the question away and hope he’ll ignore the awkwardness. He opens the classroom door for you and, following you out, answers.

“My second period music appreciation class was just a collective pain in the ass today. I think they realized they actually have to do work to get course credit.”

You roll your eyes. “What a novel concept, right? My first block was like that actually. I had to remind them that English is a requirement to graduate. They have to pass. But no, they just kept -“ you cut yourself off, frustrated.

He looks at you curiously and opens the lounge door for you. “What were they doing?” He drops to his knees in front of the copier and fuck, his shirt is clinging to his back so it was definitely clinging to his chest.

You roll your eyes but it’s solely for your benefit; he has his back to you. “They kept asking questions that are not relevant to my class. How old am I, am I single, what’s my favorite movie, what music do I listen to, where do I buy my clothes, oh god it was awful.” You slump against the wall and he looks up at you. You’re suddenly aware that today’s skirt is slightly shorter than the others and at his angle, he might be getting some serious thigh.

“Well, if they get to be too much, send the worst one on a special errand. You need new expo markers, you need a note delivered to a teacher, you need Diet Coke from the vending machine because you’re feeling a migraine coming on, something. You’re welcome to send me decoy notes.” He’s gone back to focusing on the copier.

“That’s a good idea. Thank you. I’m gonna keep that in mind, actually.”

He grins, meeting your eyes again. “And I’ll stall them by writing a decoy note back. Keep them out of your hair.”

You laugh. “This sounds like a great plan. All I need now is to figure out how to fix the damn copier. Can you teach me?”

He looks affronted and places a hand lovingly on the front of the machine. “Be nice to her! And why on earth would I teach you the one thing I know that you don’t and keeps you coming to my door?” He raises an eyebrow, obviously expecting an answer and you will yourself not to blush.

“I, well, I don’t want to keep bothering you is all. And I don’t like depending on people.”

He stands up and pats the machine. “You’re not a bother. And you can depend on me.” He pauses in the doorway to look back at you. “They’re good questions by the way.” You look confused. “How old are you, are you single, what’s your favorite movie…”

“Oh.”

“You’re great with words Milton and you’re real smart; you know that’s not an answer to the question posed.” He leans against the doorway and grins, waiting. “Ah, this is a test Milton. I gotcha, it’s the old scaffolding model. I do, we do, you do. We’ll just skip the middle step though. Here. 28, yes, Inglorious Basterds. See, not so hard.” His tone is playful and you aren’t annoyed at the teasing at all - particularly not after that second answer.

“27, yes, Little Miss Sunshine.” He smiles at you approvingly and you grin. “Do I get a sticker for doing a good job, Mr. Urie?” You flutter your eyelashes at him before you both start laughing.

“We don’t give stickers in high school. Now let’s go.” He walks out the door and you scurry after him.

“Where are we going? We don’t have duty this week.”

“I know.” He turns to look at you and you can’t quite read his expression. “Yep. Come on.” You don’t know what he saw in your eyes but you’ll follow. He stops short and you look around.

“Brendon, this is the cafeteria.”

“Y/n, I know.” He smirks and grabs your hand and pulls you through the doors. Second lunch is ending so you’re swimming upstream and when he finally comes to a stop, it’s at a door on the other side of the room, opposite the doors to the arts hall. He carefully opens the door and slips through, and because your hand is still (still!) in his, you go too. It’s dark. For a split second, all you can hear is his breathing and you can feel his hand gripping yours. What the fuck are you about to d- he turns on the light. Well, damn.

“What is this?” You look around, very confused. He chuckles, dropping into a chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“The student council meeting room. They do a fundraiser every Friday where they bake fresh cookies in that,” he gestures blindly behind himself, “and sell them to the students. Two cookies, one dollar.” You follow his flailing hand and see a branded Otis Spunkmeyer cookie oven. You wander closer and see that it claims to make delicious cookies in just five minutes when used with genuine Otis Spunkmeyer dough. He’s turned in his seat to watch you and he chuckles. “So if I’m ever craving a cookie, I sneak in, bake two, and leave a five dollar bill. Debbie almost definitely knows it’s me but she hasn’t said anything yet so,” he shrugs. “I keep them in dough. Literally.” He laughs at his own joke and you do too.

“So…why are we here?” You think it might be a dumb question but he stands briskly, walks to the freezer, and pulls out a bag of frozen dough.

“I said we don’t give out stickers. But I will give you a cookie.” He grins, flicking the switch to ‘on’ and dropping blobs of dough onto the baking panel. “And now we wait.” You sit side by side on top of the table opposite the machine in comfortable silence. Internally, you’re amazed. It’s never been this easy or natural with anyone. And his hand holding yours. Damn. Your thoughts continue to wander and you’re fighting it. No. Focus. Cookies. It’s no use. Shit.

He carefully opens the door and slips through, and because your hand is still (still!) in his, you go too. It’s dark. For a split second, all you can hear is his breathing and you can feel his hand gripping yours. What the fuck are you about to d- he crushes his mouth over yours, pressing you to the door. “Been wanting to do this for awhile,” he says hoarsely, and you moan. “Had to be sure you were single. Interested.” He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, and you nod. His lips are back over yours and his tongue is in your mouth when he slips a knee in between yours and tries to spread your legs, but the cut of your skirt prevents that. “Love this look on you. So fucking sexy,” he groans, tracing a finger from the center of your chest down to the waistband of your skirt. “But I need you to start wearing things I can work with.” You nod and gasp as his full lips move down your neck, leaving hot wet kisses as he goes. “I know I’ve been coming on kinda strong. Not real subtle. But fuck, I’m into you. So I’m not sorry.” This is murmured against your skin and you whimper, rocking your hips up, seeking.

“Brendon,” you murmur and he looks at you, eyes heavy.

“Yes?” Fuck. His voice isn’t muffled by your neck and shoulder. It’s beside you. Fuck. He looks at you curiously. “Uhm. Thank you for this. All of it. The copier, the fish fry, the advice, this. You’re being really nice to me.” He smiles softly.

“You need to reread your fairytales Milton. I’m a hermit, not a troll. I can be nice.” He doesn’t sound offended though. Just amused. You laugh, protesting.

“I just mean…thank you. Really.”

He places a cookie, wrapped in wax paper, in your hand. “For doing such a good job earlier,” he winks at you playfully and hands you another. “And for when you realize that Brendon Urie just made you the best goddamn cookie you’ve ever had and you find yourself needing another.” He wraps up his own, powers down the machine, wipes a damp cloth over the baking surface, and turns to the door. “But they’re best enjoyed hot. So don’t wait too long.” And with another wink, he holds the door open for you and you walk through to head back to your respective rooms.

He stops at the band room door. “Well, this is me. Thanks for being my pseudo-drum kit. I feel a lot better.” He grins and you return it.

You can hit this anytime. No, brain. Bad. No. “Well, it’s the least I could do, all things considered. Seriously.”

“Don’t give it another thought. I’m happy to help you.”

You smile and wave, before heading back to your room. Once you’re inside, you stop. “Wait. He said ‘happy to help you.’ That’s not the saying. It’s just ‘happy to help.’ And he said not to wait too long with the cookie. Is the cookie a metaphor? Fucking hell, I think this cookie is a metaphor.” You’re speaking out loud, pacing. “He is flirting with me.” You say it decisively and grin giddily. “Hell yes.”

The rest of planning, lunch, and fourth block all fly by. You’re in a great mood. You might stay for a little while and get some work done, but you’re not sure yet. What you do know for certain is, it’s hot as fuck outside and it’s creeping in and you want a water bottle. You get up from behind your desk and head for the vending machine, cash in hand. You can already feel the Dasani as it hits your tongue. Cash goes in. Button is pressed. Nothing happens. You groan. You hit the button again and to your joy, you hear the promising rumble of a bottle. To your surprise, two fall out. You’re standing there with both icy bottles in your hands when it hits you. Of course.

You set off at a brisk pace until you’re crashing through the side doors of the school. “Agh! it’s bright!” You shield your eyes and scan your surroundings. Yep. Practice field to your right. It’s down a steep hill, which you manage pretty gracefully all things considered, until his voice crackles through the air.

“Welcome to practice Ms. Milton!” You jolt in surprise. Oh. The electric megaphone. Yep. Your band director had one too. No sense straining your throat from the top of the band tower when megaphones exist. Shockingly, you don’t trip down the rest of the hill - but you’re far happier once you’re on flat ground. “Hold. Take a water break everyone. You’ve got five minutes.” You hear the sighs of relief from where you are and walk briskly to the base of the tower. He leans over and looks down at you warmly, megaphone at his feet and sunglasses glinting. “Well hello again Milton. What brings you to Urie’s Torturedome?” You look confused and he chuckles. “They don’t like practicing outside. They like winning, but they don’t like practicing. So until the school builds us an AstroTurf gymnasium, they refer to marching practice as the torturedome.”

The young woman clamoring down from the drum major’s podium protests. “We don’t mean it Mr. Urie! We really are grateful you hold us to such a high standard. Superior ratings aren’t given, they’re earned.” She looks at you earnestly. “Really.”

“All good Marissa. I’m just teasing because I know you can hear me. Get some water and you can extend their break.” She salutes and you don’t think it’s ironically. She’s definitely an honors kid. You relate to her so hard. You just want to please him. Fuck. Phrasing. He looks back down at you. “So. What brings you here?”

You hold up the bottle of Dasani. “The vending machine gods blessed me with a fruitful bounty this harvest. Figured you could use this more than me.” His eyes light up.

“Most definitely. Come on up.” You look warily at the ladder. “You don’t have to come up if you’re afraid of heights though. I’ll come to you. Hold on.”

You laugh a little. “It’s not the height. I’m just in a skirt, that’s all.” He nods in understanding and within mere seconds, he’s down the ladder and leaning against one metal rod of the tower with the bottle in his hand.

“You are an angel. An absolute angel.” He declares, twisting the lid off. You smile and shrug and he looks at you appraisingly. “You’re sure it’s not the height? It is the tallest marching tower in the state.” He isn’t even assuming his faux-humble look and tone. He’s actually proud, and you’re actually impressed. You shake your head as you take a swig from your water and gesture at your skirt as you swallow. “Well, I need you to start wearing things I can work with.” You freeze - those words sound familiar. Fuck. Student council cookie fantasy. That’s a coincidence, surely. But he’s still talking. “You’re a former band kid and I want a second pair of eyes. I need you on my tower. You did volunteer to help in any way you could,” he reminds you. “This is how you can help. Climb the tower, Milton.” You can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses and he’s taking a slow sip of water and you can’t tell if he’s flirting or is totally unaware of the sexual euphemism he’s created. There’s a single drop of water clinging to his lower lip. Fuck. His tongue flicks out to collect it and while you’re not sure, you feel comfortable guessing that he’s watching you steadily.

“I’ll do my best to remember.” There. Solid answer that fits both scenarios. “I’ll let you get back to practice.” You aren’t wearing sunglasses so you can’t hide the long look you give him from head to toe but you don’t want to. You want him to see you looking. He’s changed from his usual uniform to another band shirt, a white tee this time with the current show design on the back, and black shorts. His hair is contained by a black, backwards snapback and you can’t lie, it’s a good look for him. Really good look for him. Damn. You take another sip of water, letting your eyes meet his.

He’s been watching you scan him, and his voice is lower now; students are starting to head back over. “Taking notes on what is appropriate band practice attire?”

You grin. “Nope.” And with that, you turn and head back up the hill.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language and implied sexual situations. ALSO SOME KILLER FUCKING DIALOGUE; I LITERALLY HIGH-FIVED MYSELF A FEW TIMES (I looked like a goddamn seal). Lesson of the day: it’s important to notice your strengths and validate them.
> 
> My blog is https://loverontheleft.tumblr.com/ - I love talking and am always open to requests!

“MS. MILTON. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HEARD?” You wince at Jessica’s volume.

“Too early to be so loud Jess. We’re in 1st block and you’re at 3rd block volume.”

“I HEARD THAT YOU AND MR. URIE WERE MAKING OUT ON THE MARCHING BAND FIELD YESTERDAY.”

“That’s not true,” Caroline argues from across the room. “They kissed but they weren’t making out.”

“Well, I heard they hooked up.” You can’t tell who that is. Probably Eric.

Caroline comes to your defense. “No, you guys, they only kissed!”

“No, they definitely hooked up.” Brian smirks from the back row. “I saw it.”

You’re done with this. “Everyone.” They freeze at the tone of your voice. You never raise it; you don’t have to. “First, all of you are wrong. I brought him a water bottle. Second, consider your environment. This is a classroom and a place of learning. Respect it as such. Your current topic is inappropriate.” You’re calm and you look at everyone in their desks. “I don’t want to hear anything else about it, understood?”

“I’m just saying Ms. Milton, no one would judge you. He’s so sexy.”

“Jessica!” That’s Caroline. Bless her.

“I mean have you seen his face?” Anna is joining in now. “And his butt? Lord!”

“Anna!” Caroline is probably planning to become a teacher. Or a nun. You’re not sure which.

“He’s super hot Ms. Milton, you should get it.”

“Beth!”

“Ladies! What did I just say?” You’re annoyed now. They can tell. They turn back to face you, chagrin clear on their faces. “I’ll ask again. Am I understood when I say I don’t want to hear anything else about it?” The entire class nods. “Good. Moving on. We’re going back to Beowulf, Canto 11. Brian, you’re up first.” A groan from the back. “You had plenty to say about me, I want to hear what you have to say about Grendel in Canto 11. Don’t make me ask again.” Your voice is level but they can hear the restraint. Everyone, including Brian, knows better than to fuck with you right now.

The rest of class goes much more smoothly, and you feel your shoulders drop. The bell rings. Maybe second block won’t be so - ah, shit. “Ms. Milton, do you know what they’re saying about you and Mr. Urie?” Emily’s eyes are wild and she’s come flying into the room with Stacy and Josh, two other band kids, right behind her. You hold up both hands, hoping to cut her off but it’s no use. “They’re saying you KISSED.”

You laugh. “Oh, is that the worst you’ve heard?” Her jaw drops and you continue. “You three were there and you saw that nothing happened. Don’t let what other people say bother you. I’m fine.” You smile reassuringly and Stacy looks unsure. “Really.”

“Well. If anything did happen -” Stacy starts, and Josh cuts her off.

“The band leadership board supports it.” You act quickly and stifle your laughter. Maybe the worst is a twitch of your lips. Good to know you have their blessing. “After you left, Mr. Urie let us go home 15 minutes early. He’s never done that.” Josh looks impressed.

Hope he went home to take a cold shower after that eyefucking you gave him; you know you did, that white shirt plastered to his chest with sweat had you all - BRAIN. FUCK. Knock it off. “Well, thank you guys. That’s kind of you. I’m sure I had nothing to do with you getting to leave early; you probably earned that with your hard work.” The three of them look at each other and it’s clear they don’t believe you. “Anyway.” You make eye contact with each of them. “If the class isn’t quiet during SSR because they’re discussing this rumor, you three are going to shut it down, yes?” They all nod eagerly. “Good. Thank you.”

There’s some chatter, but the three of them and a few other band kids in your second block quell the gossip and you transition to Beowulf with more ease than first block. You have good students, all in all. The annoying ones don’t ruin it for everyone, and you count yourself lucky.

When the bell rings for third block, you snatch the print-out of the pop quiz you’re giving tomorrow and book it to the copier. You’re feeling lucky; today’s a good day; you’re only going to say nice things to the stupid fucki-…hardworking and tired machine. You round the corner and the juxtaposition of your emotions is harsh. On one hand, Brendon’s back is to you. On the other, he’s writing a sign that says “Out of Order” and taping it to the stupid fucking bitch machine. It’s like your heart went on Tower of Terror. Yanked up, then sent crashing down. Fuck.

“Nooooooo,” you moan, sliding to the floor. He turns, sees you, and smiles wanly.

“I’ve done my best and I can’t get it. I let Jess in the main office know, so hopefully we’ll get a repair guy out here later this afternoon.”

“In time for me to make copies of a pop quiz I’m giving tomorrow?” You look desperate. Copy machines in this school are on strike, if Brendon can’t get this one to work and the repair guy doesn’t come, you’re fucked. He shrugs and offers you a hand.

“Come with me.” You take it and let yourself be pulled to your feet.

“Brendon, cookies won’t fix this.” He grins and shakes his head.

“I have something better than cookies.” You gasp playfully but you follow him back to his office inside the band room. “I have this.” He points to the corner and you turn to him in awe. And then, you’re annoyed.

“You jerk!” You hit his chest lightly. “You’ve been hiding your own copy machine?” He grins and catches your wrist.

“I’ve been saving the public copy machine and saving you time by not making you walk all the way here to me.” You consider this. “It’s for all of the sheet music I have to print. The school didn’t want me holding people up by using teacher’s lounge copiers, so this was a gift from the Band Boosters. You’re welcome to it for as long as you need.”

“This walk isn’t bad. I’d walk a lot farther to get to you.” Fuck. That was out loud. You walk briskly to the machine and start running copies, your head down, praying the comment will go over his head.

He makes a thoughtful sound and says nothing else for a moment. Then, out of nowhere: “You’re wearing pants today.” You give him a weird look over your shoulder. “You can climb the tower this afternoon then. I mean,” you glance again when he pauses and he looks almost nervous. “If you don’t have anything better to do.”

You turn fully, leaning back against the machine. “It’s a Tuesday. What else could I possibly have to do?” He shrugs and you just want to go hug him, he’s blushing and he looks so insecure right now.

“I don’t know, I mean, maybe you’ve got plans with some-”

You cut him off. “I don’t have any plans. With anyone except for you now. I’ll be there.” He breaks out into a smile and the confidence is back. He eyes your outfit and tells you you look good. Your turn to blush. “It’s different. I mean, I am just so used to the skirts…” you trail off, running a finger over the pattern on your ankle pants.

He shrugs. “You look great all of the time. I mean…the students say so. Someone joked you’d win Best Dressed for the senior superlatives.” He grins. “And yeah, it’s a departure from your normal look, but it’s not a bad one by any means.” You’re not sure what to say.

“Thanks.” You collect the copies and look at him and the door. “Any other secret food-based missions we’re going on today?”

He shrugs. “Nothing on my calendar.” Your eyes meet and you blush again. Why are you like this? It’s never been weird before. Those stupid rumors.

“Have you heard th-”

He interrupts you. “The rumors that we kissed and/or made out and/or had sex on the marching field yesterday?” You feel your shoulders drop and you exhale. “Yeah I have.” He looks up at you and grins. “I’d like to think the two of us have a little more class than to go at it on the field.”

You laugh, and the tension is broken. “It’s like they don’t know us at all.”

He stands, stretching. “Exactly. Come on Milton, let’s go get a cookie.”

Turns out there’s a fridge in the student council room too, and you both audibly gasp with glee when you see the carton of 2% milk. You turn to him, looking conflicted, holding a ten dollar bill in your hands. “It’s only Tuesday. Debbie will notice before Friday that they’re running low, right?”

He nods seriously. “She comes in here every day during 4th block. We’ll be fine.” You tuck the ten under the coffee pot and look at him expectantly. He looks back. “Am I making the cookies?” He seems amused when you nod. “Y/n, you know they’re not really better because I dropped the hunks of frozen dough onto the hot surface, and you didn’t, right?”

You shrug, filling two mugs with milk. “But why risk it?” He laughs at your serious expression and gives in, dropping the dough and setting the timer.

“Alright Milton, spill.” You look dubiously from him to the mug of milk in your hands and he rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant. You know,” he nudges your hand with his mug lightly, “your story. It’s been a whole two weeks and I know your name, what you teach, your age, you’re single, and your favorite movie. And,” he grins, “sometimes you disappear on me. I look over and you’re just staring into space.”

You blush. Oh, I could tell you where I’m at, all you have to do is ask. Shut. Up. Brain. “I’m not great with giant vague topics. What do you want to know?”

“Well, I know this isn’t your first year teaching. Where were you before this? What brought you here?”

You look up at him through lowered lashes. “I killed a man.” You can tell from his eyes he doesn’t know whether to believe you or not and you burst out laughing. “Dang Urie, they did a background check on both of us to get hired, remember?” He nudges you again and you fold. “I taught in Texas for 5 years. I grew up there. My parents died when I was 10 and my grandma passed in early February two years ago. Couldn’t stand to be in the area so I moved from Austin to Amarillo. So when my ex from Austin showed up, I did what I do best.” You give him a rueful smile. “I ran.” He is looking at you so softly and you feel the need to comfort him. “I mean. He wasn’t abusive or anything like that. It was just a messy end and he wanted to get back together and I couldn’t - well, wouldn’t. I respect myself too much.” He gives you an encouraging smile. “But he didn’t like hearing ‘no,’ and kept showing up and I just got tired of it. So I called my best friend, she came from Austin, and we starting packing up my apartment. I gave my notice of not continuing my lease, declined to renew my contract, and I sent out my teaching resume, said I’d move really anywhere, and liked y’all the best. So here I am. New start.” He nods slowly, considering this. “What about you? How did Mr. Brendon Urie end up in glamorous Putnam, Connecticut? I know you’re not from here; Tracy in the English department knows everyone and everything from Putnam and she’s got nothing on you except you’ve been here for five years. Hermit.” You point at him playfully.

He shrugs. “I’m a west coast transplant too. Napa Valley, born and raised. Just got tired of it, I guess. Did the same thing as you; except I’ve done all five years here. Got my teaching license and sent out the resume nationally.”

You look at him in disbelief. “You got tired of Napa Valley, where the air smells like wine and the sun is shining almost all the time?” He shrugs again, meeting your gaze. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s got anything to hide. “Okay then.” You nod decisively.

He glances at his watch. “I don’t want to steal all of your planning period. Mine is really a break; we have band after this, so my prep work is minimal. You have to teach.” He looks cautious and you wave away his concerns.

“I’m an insomniac and I’m here when the building opens at 5. I’m super productive in the morning so this is also my break.” He relaxes a little.

“Next question.” He pauses. “I’m going back over the annoying ones your kids asked. Uh. Where do you get your clothes?” He grins. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like someone’s daydream from 1950. You know, the pencil skirts, the sheath dresses…”

You laugh. “That’s the best one I’ve heard yet. My best friend, the one who helped me pack, is a seamstress and she works for the performing arts center in Austin. We both have a very particular style, so she’s made all of my skirts and dresses. The tops and pants are from wherever.” He looks impressed.

“That’s really cool.” He thinks for a moment. “What music do you like?”

You consider. “I’ll really listen to anything. I like most everything, but give the choice, I’ll usually go with some form of alternative pop/rock. Oh, and showtunes. I’m a huge Broadway nerd. Being so much closer to the city is amazing. 3 hours in the car is nothing.”

He nods. “I love Broadway. Do you have a favorite show?”

You groan. “That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child.”

“Wait, do you have kids?”

“Nope. Unless you count the 73 I see on a daily basis.” You grin at him. “Favorite show…favorite show. Uhm. I relate so much to If/Then, but I also love Next to Normal. Fuck, I can’t choose. That creative team is so talented.” You must really look distressed because he places his hand over yours and you shiver at the contact.

“You don’t have to choose a favorite. I’ve seen both of those and they are incredible.” You return the question to him and he thinks for a moment. “Of the classics…probably RENT. Of the contemporaries…Maybe Book of Mormon?” You nod approvingly and he checks his watch again. “We’ve got time for one more if we want to sneak out between lunches. Speaking of lunch, what’s your favorite food?”

“Again, favorite child scenario. I love all food.” You grin and pop the last bite of cookie in your mouth. He laughs and stands up. “And yours?”

He smiles. “Same answer but I’m going to attempt partial credit and give you a restaurant suggestion. The Stomping Ground on Main Street if you haven’t been already. So fucking good.” He extends a hand and you take it, rising to your feet and you leave the room. You stealthily move from the front of the cafeteria to the back, though stealth might not be necessary since the cafeteria is empty except for staff, and you slip through the arts hall door. You pause at his room and he gives you that crooked smile that makes you warm all over.

“I’ll see you later Milton. Practice starts at 4:30 and we’re done at 7:30. Glad you wore pants so I can get you on my tower.” He gives you a quick wink and then he’s disappearing into the room. You’re certain you’re blushing. He knew what he was doing that time. He had to have known.

The fourth block gossip circuit isn’t as bad and yet, in some ways it’s worse. There aren’t any band kids in this class, so no one has even somewhat accurate stories by this point in the day. As a result, the stories are so outrageous, even the students repeating them don’t seem to believe it. They do seem to like Beowulf though.

The bell rings and it’s 3:35 and they’re flying out the door. You’ve officially got an hour til marching band practice starts and that might be just enough time when you factor in traffic.

You end up being exactly right; you’re pulling in beside what you assume is Brendon’s car and it’s, according to your car, 4:20. You open the door, muttering “blaze it” to yourself and grab the cooler from the backseat. You wore shoes with more traction this time so getting down the hill and dragging the cooler isn’t half as bad as yesterday.

He meets you at the base of the tower. “What’s all this?” He looks behind you at the cooler and back at you. “You look great by the way.”

You give him a weird look. “I literally haven’t changed since you saw me two and half hours ago…you on the other hand…” he’s changed into something similar to yesterday’s outfit and he shrugs, either not noticing or reacting to your appreciative glance.

“Thought you should hear it again. What’s in the cooler?”

You smile and bite your lip, feeling the blush creep up your face. His question finally processes. “Oh. I brought you water yesterday so I brought them water today. And snacks! For when they’re done for the day of course.” He looks so happy. It’s a small band, maybe fifty students tops, so this wasn’t a big deal - two packs of water, a bag of ice, and two variety packs of granola bars. You tell him this and he shakes his head.

“No, it is a big deal. I appreciate it. So much.” If you could capture the look on his face right now, you’d look at it every day for the rest of your life.

“It’s the least I can do since I’m hijacking your copier for the foreseeable future. The repair guy didn’t come today.”

He pretends to look annoyed. “Oh no, you’ll be coming to see me all the time and I’ll have to talk to you. Gross.”

You laugh. “I’m not coming for you, Urie,” fuck; phrasing, do better brain, and this time it’s a serious fuck-up because he smirked and raised one eyebrow - fuck fuck fuck. “I’m coming to see that copier of yours.”

“You’ve wounded me. I’ll never recover.” He looks around. Marissa is the only student even remotely nearby; everyone else is unpacking their instruments and talking to others. You can tell she’s waiting for instructions. “Marissa, please start the group warmups. I want the trumpets at least 20% louder, let them know, please. You can use your judgement with the others. Listen closely and remember what we talked about in identifying the ones who are sharp and who are flat. Now go get’em.” She nods eagerly and he sends her off with an encouraging smile. He turns to you. “She’s an excellent drum major and a very gifted flutist. She’s only a junior, so she’s got time, but she’s looking at Berklee in Boston, Juilliard, and Oberlin. I think she’s gonna get in at all of them but I’m biased.” He grins and shakes his head a little. “Sorry. I’m bragging. Let’s get up there. After you.”

You turn to give him a playful grin. “Trying to get a good view, Urie?” Oh, you are shameless.

“No!” He looks horrified. “Honestly, it’s a safety thing. I don’t want you to slip and fall without anyone to catch you.”

“Oh. Well thank you in advance for catching me. I’m accident-prone and I will fall.” You are sure you look embarrassed, not considering the safety of it and saying what you said out loud.

He smirks. “Well I’ll catch you as needed. Also the view thing might also be true, yeah.” You’re laughing as you climb the ladder and he scampers up behind you, sunglasses in place and an extra pair you hadn’t noticed before tucked in his shirt collar. “Here you go.” He hands the other pair to you. “It can get kind of bright when the sun starts to set, if that makes sense.” You nod and accept them gratefully. “Now Ms. Milton.” You look up at him and he looks very serious. “I’d like for you to listen to the trumpets and give me some feedback, and then I want your general opinion on the show.”

“I think I can do that.” Just as the words leave your mouth, the warmups start and as promised, Marissa has the trumpets louder. You smile appreciatively and nod as they run through their scales. “They have a lovely tone. You’ve got one or two who are sharp.” You both wait and Marissa, without hearing you, gives the same feedback. It isn’t long before the show is starting and you’re honestly blown away. You’re leaning slightly over the edge to watch, and your jaw is dropped. Eyes wide, you turn to him excitedly, hitting his arm repeatedly. “Did you see that?!” He grins and nods. The band transitioned seamlessly from interwoven triangles to a full company forward march and it was stunning - you’d never seen it done that well before. “Brendon, this music!” Your eyes are welling up. The show is called Heroes and Villains and what started with a jazzy Superman theme and a riff on The Incredibles has been a wild ride; you’ve just been transported from a full-band, raging interpretation of Dies Irae with something you can’t quite place before it to a soft, lone trumpet playing Taps. “This is gorgeous. Really.” He smiles softly.

“Do you really think so?” You look at him in surprise.

“Uh, yes! It’s amazing!” His smile gets a little bigger but he tries to contain it. It dawns on you. “Did you do this arrangement?” He just looks at you, beaming, and you poke him in the side. “Brendon I don’t know your middle name Urie, did you do this arrangement?” When he nods, you shriek. “Brendon! Damn you for being both so talented and attractive it’s not fair! This is truly incredible, really.”

He grins at you. “You said I’m attractive.” You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. You did say that. Fuck. You wave a hand in front of his face.

“Focus on what’s important here, Urie.” He nods and grabs his megaphone.

“Sounded great everyone. Pack up and enjoy your Tuesday night. Make good choices. Ms. Milton brought water bottles and snacks for you, so grab something on the way out.”

You and Marissa are both staring at him. “Mr. Urie it’s 4:50…we only warmed up and ran it once…” her voice is cautious like she wants her Tuesday night but also doesn’t want to risk her Superior ranking at State. Everyone else meanwhile is either packing up or already packed and flying up the hill.

He beams down at her and drops the megaphone. “And it sounded great. You did wonderfully. Now call that guy you like, Jason or Justin or whatever and let him know you’re free.” She’s gaping at him and he just grins and makes a shooing gesture. “Go on. Text him if you must but make contact. Go go go.” The teenage girl in Marissa’s brain takes over and she’s off the podium, stuffing things in her bag, and racing toward the parking lot. You turn to head down the ladder and he stops you with a grin. “I set them free, not you.” You shiver a little, enthralled. Okay. You’ll bite.

“Fair enough. Okay, first of all, that opening with Superman as a jazz rendition was so fucking cool and it blended into The Incred-what are you doing?” He’s got one hand on your waist and he’s drawing you closer, eyes blazing.

“Focusing on what’s important.” And his lips are on yours and you’re pretty sure this is real. You moan and arch into the kiss, reaching a hand up to get his hat off so you can run a hand through his hair, pulling gently. He gasps into your mouth and his teeth tug at your lower lip, the hand on your waist bringing you closer still.

“God, Urie,” you sigh against his lips and he pauses, using his other hand to cup your face.

“Yes, Milton?”

“Oh thank god. This is real.” You kiss him again, flicking your tongue out over his and when he responds eagerly, really exploring your mouth, you feel your knees start to buckle. You cling to his shirt and he tightens his hand on your waist, wrapping his arm around you now and holding you up and against him. “Told you I’d fall.” You whisper this and he smiles down at you.

“Told you I’d catch you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, sexual content.
> 
> My blog is https://loverontheleft.tumblr.com/ - I love talking and am always open to requests!

It’s almost dark out. “Urie, we gotta-“

“Nope.” His lips are sliding over yours, and you think you’re going to memorize every bit of his mouth by the time you climb down from here, which doesn’t seem like a bad thing. “I’ve wanted this for a while, so don’t rush me, Milton.” He grins against your lips and you laugh. “No laughing either, you’re making it hard to kiss you. I shouldn’t be grinning. Makes it hard.” Yeah it does.

“My sincerest apologies.” If you were to die right now in some freak accident, you would be fully satisfied with life. The way his lips coax yours apart so he can tease your tongue with his, and how he’s pressing his entire body against yours…fuck. “But I will say, it was daylight when you first kissed me.”

His lips leave yours and he looks around. The sun is almost completely set. The field lights will be coming on soon. “Hm. You make an excellent point.” The hand on your waist is moving over your back now. “You hungry, Milton?”

You giggle and bring his mouth down to yours one more time. “I will never say no to food or to you.” Well that last part just slipped out. Let’s see what he does with that.

“Aaaaaaand, filing that away for future reference.” He grins. “Let’s go feed you.” He starts down the ladder and looks back up at you, pausing on the fifth rung. “You’re beautiful. I’ll tell you when to start down.” You hear his feet softly hit the ground and his voice calls up to you, so you start down. “Carefully Milton, I need you in one piece for some of the things I have planned.”

You freeze, a wave of anticipatory pleasure rolling over you. “You can’t just say that to a woman, Urie, Jesus. Warn me next time.”

“Yes ma’am.” You reach the ground and he extends an arm to you. “Come here.” You step into his arms and he breathes slowly. “I meant what I said up there. I’ve wanted this for a while.” You nod against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “You too? Good.” He kisses the top of your head. “I live about 5 minutes from here.” Well this is interesting. “I think we should both head there so I can change into something comparable to you and then I can drive us both to dinner.”

“That,” you murmur, “is an excellent plan.” The two of you walk up the hill together, his arm slung over your shoulders. You reach your car and he kisses you again, gently and slowly this time.

“You can follow me, but if we get separated, it’s straight through two lights and then a left at the third. I’m the third house on the left once you’re in the subdivision.”

You nod. “Easy enough. See you shortly Urie.” You press two fingers to your lips and then press them to his. “Drive safely.”

Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck. The man can kiss. Fuck. Focus on the road. Fuck. You make it to his house and he indicates you can park next to him. Probably no roommate then. Noted. He opens your car door for you and leads you into his house.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Wine? Beer?” The way he’s looking at you right now, both of you seated on his couch, is sending sparks through your body. It’s almost reverent.

“Water is great, thank you.” He nods, rising and walking into the kitchen. You check your phone; it’s earlier than you thought - only 6:30.

“I figured I’d give you a tour later, food being our priority?” He’s back and hands you the glass and reaches under the coffee table for a coaster. You nod, sipping slowly. “I’m gonna go get changed. Hang tight.” He walks upstairs and you sink back into the couch. It’s maybe three minutes max before he’s bounding back down the stairs and you inhale sharply. “You good?” He looks concerned.

You nod vigorously. “Fucking hell. You are so sexy.” He laughs and you stand, crossing the room to him, holding him at arms’ length. He’s in a standard white button down but he’s tousled his hair back how it was when you first saw him in the cafeteria, and instead of his standard dress pant, he’s in slim dark denim. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him hard. “Let’s go eat.”

“I was thinking The Stomping Ground. You’ve never been, right?” You shake your head and he’s grabbing his keys when the crack of thunder rips through everything, shaking the walls. The sky opens up, rain is pouring in sheets, and you look dubiously at each other. “Or…we stay in and I cook for you.” He offers when you’re both standing in the doorway, watching it rain sideways from the wind.

“That one.” You grin, going up on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. “Can I help?”

He takes your hand and walks you back to the kitchen, lifting you by your hips and placing you on the counter. “You’re my guest. You can sit there and look beautiful and engage me in sparkling conversation while I take care of dinner.” He pecks your lips and turns back to his fridge and opening it, studying intently. “Yep, that’ll work.” He looks back at you. “You’re still good with water?” You nod and he starts pulling things out of the fridge when he freezes. “Y/n, I feel awful, I should know this - you’re not a vegetarian or anything are you?”

You grin. “No Urie, I’m a big fan of meat.” Shameless. Shameless.

His face is consumed by his broad grin. “First of all, I hear what you’re doing. Second of all, excellent. Now how do you like your steak? This is a test.”

“Medium.” You answer promptly and he nods. “I knew you had good taste. Any allergies?”

“Cowardice and weak-willed men. Oh and hazelnuts,” you quip, beaming when he starts laughing. “Thank god you watch Parks and Rec. No, no allergies.”

He puts down the steak and leans over to kiss you. “Where did you come from?” His voice is full of wonder and you smile.

“You sexy thing?” You suggest, finishing the lyric and he laughs again, shaking his head.

“I mean. That is how I would describe you. But right now I am really marveling at the universe and saying a little word of gratitude for putting you in my world.” Your eyes soften and he kisses you again, a bit harder this time, and you press into him. “I can’t stop kissing you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You cup his face lightly. “But you’re hungry. And I can always eat. So let’s take care of our physical needs first, and then we can move onto emotional desires, yeah?”

He nods, unwrapping the steak from its butcher paper before trimming it into long filets and seasoning vigorously. You’re kind of amazed, he’s not even following a recipe or anything. Once that’s done, he slides the meat into a cast iron skillet, and you both make a happy noise at the sound of sizzling meat. He turns back to the fridge and grabs Irish butter (you nod approvingly) and he drops a bit into the pan. “Those have maybe 6 or 7 minutes total. Let’s see. Butter is out, need lemon juice and parsley, the salt and pepper are out.” He’s talking to himself and you smile. So fucking cute. “Toast and radishes and salt.” You have no idea what he’s making you but after watching his energy while preparing it, you know it’s going to be good. He drops several slices of rye bread into the toaster before spinning back around to face you. “I’m ignoring you. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I just love watching you move.” Awesome, definitely no way that can be misconstrued. Good job brain.

He grins, grabbing a small bowl and adding butter before free pouring lemon juice in and adding the aforementioned parsley and salt and pepper. He whisks it hard for about 30 seconds and sets it aside. He turns his attention to the radishes and cuts off a few thin slices. The toast pops up and he grabs a thin knife from the backsplash where all of his knives are mounted. Carefully, he cuts the radish slices into delicate pieces that twist and curve on themselves. He sets those aside, leans over to the spice rack and grabs pink Himalayan sea salt. He checks the steak, making a small noise of approval and sliding the pieces onto his prep space. He grabs two plates and takes the rye toast and cuts each piece into three strips. He repeats until he’s got about twelve strips and he arranges them six to a plate. He grabs the tiniest spoon you’ve ever seen and puts three good-sized drops of the butter mix on each piece of toast before laying the steak down over it. You’re impressed; the steak fits the toast perfectly. The radish twists are placed, the salt is dusted, and he holds both plates proudly. “Dinner, Ms. Milton, is served.”

“Oh my god,” you moan, tipping your head back. “Shit, Brendon, that’s amazing.” He grins and you grab the last of your small toast piece and slide it into your mouth. “Jesus, where did you learn to cook?”

He sits back in satisfaction, watching your face. “My mom mostly. Some cooking shows, and then my habit of mimicry. If I have a great meal out, I’ll work at it until I can recreate it and share it the experience with people I care about.”

“Well fuck, this was incredible. Speaking of which,” you point at him suddenly, “you cut me off earlier. Your arrangement for the show is phenomenal.” He blushes faintly.

“You’re too kind.” You shake your head.

“No, I’m an English teacher. I’m highly critical and I pick things apart. You’re phenomenal.” He stands to clear the table and you rise to help him.

“Nuh uh. Get comfy on that couch. You are still my guest.” He smiles at you warmly. “And thank you. I did work hard on it.”

“It shows!” You drop onto the couch and continue. “And they’re using white marching shoes? I love that. Draws the eye and emphasizes how skilled they are. That’s genius.”

“Careful, you’re going to over-inflate my ego,” he warns with a laugh, coming back into the room and sitting beside you on the couch. You twist a little and he shifts, pulling you back so you’re seated between his legs. “This is what you wanted?” He’s whispering in your ear and you nod, your hand curving over his thigh.

“Your ego deserves it. You’re very good at what you do.” He kisses your cheek and you sigh contentedly, lying back against his chest.

“Milton-“ he starts and then pauses. “Does it bother you that I use your last name?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I kind of like it. I feel like…and this might be stupid or rushing but…I feel like it’s our thing. Just last names. No titles. Don’t get me wrong, I love my first name on your lips too, but no. I’m okay with last names. Why?”

He shrugs and while you can’t see it, you feel it. “I won’t lie, I’ve been trying to settle on a nickname for you, just for me to use. And every time I look at you, I just get this warm tingly feeling and-“

“That’s called an erection, Urie.” He laughs, kissing your head.

“Don’t worry Milton, I’m well aware of what those feel like. I don’t know, I just like Milton. It’s pretty and unique and - oh that’s it.”

You look at him curiously. “What’s it?” He shakes his head, grinning.

“Later.”

“Why later? What’s now?”

“Now is the time when I finally get to kiss and touch you the way we both want me to.”

“I like the sound of that.” You turn over in his lap and, feeling bold, straddle him. You look at him seriously. “Do you feel it too?”

“That’s called an erection, Milton.” You laugh and hit his shoulder.

“No. I mean since we met, everything just feels so easy and effortless. And just…right.” You bite your lip nervously and he nods.

“Yes. There’s no need for pretense or bullshit. I feel like I’ve known you forever and yet I also feel like I’m just discovering you and all I want to do is keep learning more and more. And the more I learn, the more it feels like I’ve known you my whole life. It’s just…yeah. You said it. Effortless.”

“That’s my cue.” You press your mouth to his, letting your lips part, moaning softly into his mouth when his tongue meets yours. His hands move up under your blouse and you nod, breaking the kiss only to get your shirt all the way off. He curves a hand around the back of your neck while the other slips down over your chest lightly. “You can,” you whisper.

“It’s not too much, too soon?” He looks worried, and you shake your head. “You can stop me at any point.” You nod, working at the buttons on his shirt. His hand slides down inside your bra and you both gasp.

“Your hands…” you whisper, “feel so good.”

“I want you to feel good.”

“You’re joining this program already in progress,” you wink, tentatively rolling your hips forward to feel him. “Fuck, Urie…” he moves the hand on your neck down to your hip and presses you forward slightly, and you start moving again, both of you breathing hard.

He lifts and cups your breasts with both hands now that your hips are moving again and you sigh into his mouth. “More.” His thumbs roll over your nipples and you move your hands from his hair down to his belt buckle. “I just need-“ and he cuts you off.

“Do whatever you want with me.” Ah, fuck.

You undo his belt and recenter yourself over him so his hardness is pressing the inner seam of your ankle pants right against your clit. His tongue is moving sloppily over your neck and down to the swell of your breasts and you groan, letting your head fall back as he teases your nipples with his tongue.

“I’m gonna, holy fuck, I’m gonna come from this.” You’re gasping into his mouth and sound a little surprised, rocking harder against him. He tugs at your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you wanna know why I just like Milton for you?” His voice is low and his eyes are heavy, watching you come undone in his lap and by his touch.

“Why?” By comparison, your voice is high and breathy and tight. You’re so close and -

“I associate the name Milton with paradise.” Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x Reader
> 
> Warnings: language (you should know this by now) and sexual content
> 
> Word Count: 2.8k
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

Fuck. One of his hands is still moving inside your bra and the other is pressed to the small of your back as you moan softly, eyes fluttering as you come. “So sexy,” he whispers, and you throw your arms around his shoulders so you can slump forward.

“I’ve never,” you begin, a little breathless, “come like that with so much of my clothing still on.” He smiles, taking his hand off of your chest and holding it up before you.

“Good work, team.” You laugh, high-fiving him before letting yourself go limp against him. “Do you need anything? Want anything?” He’s nuzzling your neck while the hand on the small of your back starts moving in slow circles.

You nod. “Your phone number.” He looks down at you in shock and then chuckles to himself when he realizes you’re right.

“You’re right, we don’t even have each other’s numbers. We are doing this all wrong.”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I like how it’s unfolding for me personally.” And with that, you move tentatively in his lap, whimpering softly when you find him still hard. “I want you to feel good too, Brendon, but I can’t - I don’t know if-“ he places a finger over your lips.

“Sssh. Don’t even worry about me. I’m great.” You look up at him with big eyes, concerned. “Truly. I don’t need anything else other than this right here. Honestly, I’d be good to go with just five more minutes of you moaning and rocking in my lap, if you really want to get me there.”

You pause to consider this, slipping a finger through one of his belt loops and tugging idly. “I do. But your -“ you break off, unsure, tugging at it again.

“I need to do laundry anyway.”

“Damn Urie, you really know what to say to get me hot,” you whisper playfully, grinning at him and he laughs. You scoot back to give yourself more workspace and slowly, you let your fingers tease the button of his jeans before slipping it free and unzipping.

“You don’t have to -“ he’s protesting and you silence him with the look of determination in your eyes. It won’t be much️, but it’ll be something. With his zipper down, his erection is slightly less restrained and you moan at the sight of him pressing forward, now only covered by his boxers and not a rough layer of denim.

You move back up and settle over his hips, moaning softly at how much more you can feel. “God, you feel good,” you whisper, your fingers tightening their grip on his shoulders. He makes a small wordless sound and his eyes are closed, so you’re pretty sure he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. You start moving.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips up to meet yours. “You’re fucking perfect.” You move a hand to rake through his hair, kissing his neck.

“I feel like I’m back in high school, making out in the back of a car, trying to get my boyfriend to come in his pants.” Fuck. You just made it sound like he’s your boyfriend. Maybe he won’t notice?

“You tried to get them to come in their pants?” He looks horrified. “You had to put in effort? They didn’t just come on the spot when you started making out?” He grins and you hit his shoulder lightly.

“Jerk. And I’ll point out that YOU didn’t come on the spot when we started making out. Have I lost my supposed touch?”

“Milton, I’m not a high school boy. I’m 28, so I developed self-control sometime last year.”

You laugh, sitting back. “I need us to stop talking about high school boys. It’s killing my mood.” He nods, zipping his lips shut and you groan a little, tracing your index and middle fingers across his lips. “So fucking sexy. God, I remember when I first saw you and I was just blown away. Your hair. Eyes. Lips. Everything. Fuck, Urie, you don’t even know.” He smiles softly and slips his tongue out to brush across your two fingers. “Fuck…” your head drops back. “And your tongue. That wasn’t on my first impression list but don’t think I don’t appreciate it. Damn.”

He grins against your fingers. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Milton,” and he rolls his neck back to capture the tips of both fingers in his mouth. He’s sucking gently, his eyes on yours, lids heavy, obviously enjoying himself. He’s teasing the pads of your fingers with the tip of his tongue, drawing small circles overlapping both fingers, and you can’t help but imagine this sensation far lower and you spread your thighs a little wider across him. Lightly, so lightly you think you might be imagining it, he grazes his teeth across your fingers creating a tickling-but-pleasant sensation and the moan of pleasure from your mouth surprises both of you.

“Feels good,” you whisper and he winks at you. Fuck, you could come again just from that. You press down more, taking a page from his book and circling your hips over him. He must like this, because he sucks harder, drawing your fingers further into his mouth. Holy fuck. His tongue laves over and between your fingers, and you can feel him start to rock up against you, seeking. “You gonna come for me, Urie? Come with my fingers in your mouth, sucking hard? Damn, I want to watch you come.” He moans around your fingers, looking at you hungrily, and you can just tell by the look in his eyes and the way his tongue rolls over your fingers that his climax is imminent. He places a hand on your hip and pulls you down firmly against him while he rocks up; simultaneously you’ve leaned over and have captured his earlobe in your teeth. “Come.”

And that’s all it takes. His hips still against you and his head tips back, letting your slick fingers slip from his mouth. “God, yes, Y/n...just...holy fuck. Thank you.” He lifts his head and kisses you softly. “That felt incredible.” He hesitates, pulling back to look in your eyes. “I gotta change. Obviously. And I think you do too...do you want a pair of sweatpants or something?” You nod gratefully and he sits up, hooking his arms under your thighs and rising. You shriek a little and grab his shoulders as he stands, you clinging to him. “And I can give you a small tour on the way. You’ve seen the living room and kitchen; the formal dining room is back off the kitchen. Upstairs,” he starts climbing and you press to him tighter, “is the guest suite,” he nods to the left and you peer in, impressed with the simple but welcoming decor. “And my home office is up to the right, with my bedroom straight ahead.” He nudges the door open with his foot and makes his way inside. He pauses, looking down. “Tell me if this is too much. But...I know I should take a quick shower.” He meets your eyes. “I’ll happily shower in the guest bath if you want to take one in here. No pressure. I know it’s not as...urgent a need for women sometimes.”

You hesitate, tilting your head in consideration and then kissing him softly. “I think it might be a little soon for that. But I also think I don’t care and a shower sounds amazing. Thank you.”

He laughs, kissing your nose and setting you down lightly on your feet. “Of course. To be clear, that is a yes, right?” You nod and he smiles. “Let’s grab you some clothes.” He turns toward his closet and opens the door and steps inside. 

“Urie! You never told me you had a walk-in closet,” you look at him mock-accusingly and he turns to you, chuckling.

“You never asked…?” You grin at him cheekily, giggling, and he smiles. “Oh Milton. I like you a lot.” You blush.

“I like you too.”

Now it’s his turn to give you a smug smile. “I would certainly hope so. Alright. Sweatpants and tee?” He turns to you, holding a pile of clothing and you nod.

“Thank you.” He grabs his own and you leave the closet. He’s heading for the door when you stop him. “I might need help getting the shower going.” His eyebrows raise and you laugh. “Wipe the porn openings from your mind Urie, I just want to make sure I can get it going and hot.”

Your brain doesn’t even need to scold you; he grins at you and closes the distance with a soft kiss. “Phrasing Milton. Phrasing. Now let’s get that shower started.”

You don’t take long and when you step out of the steaming bathroom with your hair piled on top of your head, you don’t hear the guest shower going either. You pull on the sweatpants, forgo your still-wet lace panties, but slip on your bra and the black shirt, noting how good the shirt smells. You’ve made a neat folded pile of your other clothes and you look hesitantly at your underwear. Do you dare? And where would you even leave them?

You head downstairs and find him draped on the couch, three DVD cases splayed on the table and a visibly cold bottle of wine out, along with two glasses and a bowl of strawberries. Damn he’s good. He looks up as you descend the stairs and smiles softly. “So you’re keeping all of that because you look gorgeous,” he notes, beckoning you over. “And seeing as it’s only 8:15, I thought maybe we could watch a movie and dessert? I don’t know what your teacher bedtime is…” he trails off as you settle down on the couch, leaning against his chest.

“I absolutely have time for a movie. And there’s always time for dessert,” you remind him, and he laughs, leaning to the table to grab the DVD cases. As he brings them back, you can’t help but squeal, “Hercules! I love Hercules.” He sets all three cases down and grins.

“I love being right.” He hits play and the once-black screen of the tv illuminates with the title menu for Hercules. “I just had a feeling.” He holds up the bottle of moscato with a questioning look and you nod, sitting up slightly to let him uncork the bottle and pour into the glasses. He sets them on the table and scoots back a little so he’s only slightly reclined against the sidearm. Gently, he takes your hips and pulls you back against him so you’re both comfortable but still able to hold and drink from your glasses. He passes you yours and the bowl of strawberries, which, now that you’re looking closely, all have had their tips dipped in granulated sugar. This man. “Now Milton darling, you’re responsible for these.”

You settle the bowl in your lap and pat his thigh. “Don’t worry. I will take excellent care of them.” The movie starts, and you’re immediately enraptured. “This soundtrack. Ugh. So good. Those horns.” He makes a small noise of agreement and you pass a strawberry back over your shoulder. You feel his lips close around the berry, just grazing your fingertips, before sinking his teeth into it. The juices roll down your thumb and index finger as he swallows and he gently takes your wrist, licking them clean. “Mr. Urie, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working, Ms. Milton?”

You giggle and nod.

You’re about halfway through the movie when he rests his chin on your head and sighs happily. Both of your wine glasses are empty and back on the table, the strawberries are almost gone, and you’ve both just been idly touching each other; your hand lightly rubbing and squeezing his thigh and his arm around your waist, fingers tracing light patterns on your stomach. At his sigh, your hand stills. “What’s on your mind, Urie?”

He leans down slightly to kiss your cheek. “You.” You smile and he continues. “But seriously, I was just thinking how right you were. This is so easy, being with you. It just feels natural and right and...good.” You make your own small happy noise and he kisses your cheek again. “That’s all.”

“I liked it.”

When the movie’s over, you stand and stretch, letting out a soft moan. “I should go home.” He stands too, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead against yours.

“Let me know when you get there safely.” You unlock your phone and hand it over to him, rocking back and forth on your heels happily.

“I will.” He walks you to the door and opens it for you. The rain has stopped and there’s sort of misty haze to everything. You turn to step down onto his walkway when he pulls you back to him, kissing you softly.

“Just one more minute,” he whispers, before coaxing your lips apart with his. You melt into the kiss, running your hands up his back as his arms snake around your waist and pull you close. “Goodnight.”

You beam up at him. “Goodnight.”

You text him as soon as you’re home, thanking him for an incredible evening, and he returns the gratitude. After getting ready for bed and wishing him one last ‘goodnight,’ you snuggle down into your pillow and fall fast asleep.

The next day, maybe 20 minutes into first block, there’s a knock on your door. You open it and a student hands you folded piece of printer paper. “Mr. Urie asked me to bring you this.” You thank him and turn back and groan. The entire class is looking at you with a mix of eagerness and smugness; you can practically hear the “I fucking told you so”s already.

“For all you nosy teenagers, he wants me to print off a copy of the newest professional development calendar since his computer is being weird.” Because you’re feeling particularly sassy, you slide the note under the document camera you’ve been using to annotate paper outlines so they can read it for themselves.

“Ugh, that’s boring.” Jessica slumps back in her seat and you laugh.

“Sorry my personal life isn’t more interesting. But you know who had a really interesting life?” You pause. “You. Remember, this paper should be predominantly reflective of yourself and life lessons you’ve found in Beowulf. You don’t need to use any other outside sources; I just want to see how you connected with the text in a formal, academic piece. Start by brainstorming your list of lessons; I’ll be walking around to check on you.”

First block and second block drag by. You’re counting the minutes. Why don’t you teach college courses, where you can let them go early? Finally, finally the bell rings and you follow your students out, empty-handed. There is no new PD calendar, but what a good decoy note.

You knock lightly on his door (he’s been locking it again at your insistence) and he opens it. You’re taken aback by the look on his face; he looks more turned on than you’ve seen him - granted, you only have last night as examples but - “Ms. Milton,” he interrupts your thoughts. “You have been very bad.” He pulls you in with a grin and closes the door behind you, leading you into his office. You have no idea where this is going but you like it. “Sit.” You obey and he leans against his desk. “Ms. Milton,” he starts again, reaching back into a drawer, and it dawns on you. “Do you recognize these?” Your black lace panties dangle from his index finger.

“Oh good, you found them! I was wondering where I left them.” You smile up at him innocently.

“You left them draped over my alarm clock, so they’d be the first thing I touched this morning.” You grin. Such a good plan. “And I have been thinking about you all day, and you’re torturing me right now,” his tone is playful anguish, “with this dress, dear God.”

You stand, spinning for him slowly, giggling. “Why? It’s just a plain black sheath. Nothing special.”

His eyes dart to the office door. Closed. Blinds into the classroom, closed. His classroom door is also closed. He pushes himself off the desk and grabs you by the hips, kissing you fiercely. “You know it is not ‘nothing special;’ that dress was fucking made for you, literally, and you look so good and I can’t fucking have you.” He adds to his anguished tone a what appears to be a genuine pout, and you lean back in, kissing him.

“Sounds like I owe you then.” You run your finger along his collar. “Just let me know when and where.”

He grins. “I hoped you’d say that. Any weekend plans?” His grin widens when you shake your head. “Well pack a bag Milton, you’re helping me chaperone our trip to Invitationals.”

Well. Not what you had in mind, but it certainly has potential.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual implications, and content.
> 
> Because I don’t want to end up teaching British Literature online through a fanfic (though what a class that would be), I’m gonna continue playing fast and loose with the progression of time. Classroom time will be present as required by the plot. If you have questions about any of the works I mention and want to know why I used them or just have general questions about them, feel free to ask! I love teaching more than I love Brendon (which is a fucking lot) so I love getting literature questions.
> 
> NOTE:
> 
> Now that I have your attention. THIS CHAPTER IS FROM BRENDON’S POV. I’m still using Y/n when Brendon’s referring to the reader because it seems easiest, but the second person “you” in this chapter is our boy.
> 
> Word count: 3.5k
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“Sounds like a plan. I’m really sorry Urie, but I do actually have some work to do this planning period.” She looks regretful, like she really does want to stay - and you want her to stay too. But you’re not going to interfere with her job.

You nod, understanding. She reaches for the panties still in your hand and you pull back.

“No ma’am, these are mine now. You left them for me. Also, your dress doesn’t have pockets; where would you even put them until you got back to your room?”

“Well, seeing as I’m not wearing any currently, I would have just put them on.” Your eyes go wide and she smiles. “But like you said, they’re yours now, so I’ll just head back to my room.” She gives you a quick kiss before turning and walking towards the office door.

“Milton, you’re kidding, right? You’re fucking with me right now. Oh my god.” You’re sitting on the couch now, head resting against interlocked fingers. She turns before leaving your office and blows you a kiss. Once she’s gone, you sit back and groan, eyes shut. “Woman, you are going to be the death of me, I swear.”

You’re distracted the rest of your planning period; you keep playing the moment you found her panties on repeat. Your alarm went off, you rolled over to hit the snooze button, and, instead of smooth plastic, your fingers touch lace. Confused, your fingers close around the lace and bring it over to your drowsy eyes. You turn on the table lamp with your free hand and blink to focus. “Jesus fucking Christ.” As if you weren’t hard enough from your evening together playing on repeat behind your eyes all night; this was a whole new level. Your eyes slide to the time on your clock. You don’t have time, unless it’s in the shower. You groan again, clutching her panties and rolling out of bed.

The bell for 4th block rings and you shake your head, clearing out memories of steamy showers. Time to focus. You leave for Invitationals early Saturday morning; you have 3 more practices left , and only one of them is an extended practice. Maybe letting them leave early last night was a - no. Your mind wanders back to kissing her, how she responded so eagerly, so soft and willing, the rest of your evening together, sucking strawberry off of her fingers, and you reaffirm your decision. You all deserved a break yesterday.

“Heyyyyyy Mr. Urie.” Emily drops her bag by her seat and grins at you. “Ms. Milton was really distracted in second block.” Don’t react. Don’t react.

“Was she?” Calm. Mostly uninterested. Good.

“Yep. Anyway, thanks for letting us go early yesterday; I finished my chemistry research project early and don’t have anything to do over Invitationals weekend. How was your night?”

You look at her and can’t tell what she knows. If she knows. You’re pretty sure all of the cars were gone when you - but Marissa maybe? She wouldn’t have said anything. Would she? No.

“It was very pleasant, thank you for asking. Good job on the chem project, by the way. Good to stay on top of things.” Y/n, in your lap, rocking on top of you, grinding those hips down, rubbing herself against your dick, moaning in your ear, telling you to come. Fuck. It’s going to be a long day.

Everyone’s changing for practice and you head into your office to send her a quick text. “Can’t stop thinking about you. Headed out to the field. Practice is over at 3:30 today.” You don’t expect a response so you’re stunned when your phone vibrates immediately.

“I’ll meet you in the band room at 4.”

It’s. Going. To. Be. A. Long. Day.

Practice goes as smoothly as it could go; Marissa looks more confident, steps are all neat and precise, and the shapes are clean and exact. They sound amazing. They’re working hard, and you’re sure it’s out of appreciation for their unexpected night off. You finetune a few things, have the sections retune, and run it again. And just like that, it’s 3:25. “Excellent job guys - I mean it. Really phenomenal. Do that Saturday and you’ll be really pleased with your ratings. Pack up, head inside, and be sure to stay hydrated. Extended practice tomorrow!”

You wait until the field is cleared and climb down the ladder. By the time you get back inside and change, it’ll be 3:45. Everyone will be gone and you’ll only have to wait fifteen minutes.

It’s 4 on the dot and there’s a soft knocking at your door. You pull the door open and she’s standing there and just when you thought you couldn’t be any more attracted to her -

“I ordered pizza.” She’s holding the box in her hands and you can smell it; it’s mouthwatering. “It's not filet mignon toast, but figured we could go over some logistics for the competition.”

Moments later, you’re both seated on the floor, her legs curled under her delicately, and you’re discussing bus schedules and food prep. “Typically the Band Boosters make a ton of sandwiches and put them back in the loaf sleeves and we put those in coolers with the drinks and bring dry snacks along.”

She nods thoughtfully. “That works. What are we doing for dinner Saturday after the competition?”

“What are we, you and I, doing, or what are we, the collective band, doing?” Your hand is wandering up her thigh over her dress and she blushes. “We, you and I, are doing whatever we, you and I, want.”

“But we should probably be with the collective band, right?”

“That’s what the parent volunteers are for. Typically they divide into 4 groups and go to 4 different restaurants. Each kid has their own “band account” where tip money and bonus work hour rewards from the fish fry go, so they don’t have to worry about spending their own money.”

“That’s really smart.” She looks impressed and you smile.

“It took a while to get it all in order, but it works really well now. But anyway, the parent volunteers take them to dinner with the understanding that I need to be alone and decompress. With my anxiety and everything, I need some alone time after competitions.” She looks so concerned, so protective. “I’m usually fine, honestly. Just a lot of tension and high energy and crowds, sometimes it’s a bit much, especially at Invitationals which can be a two-day event if things go well Saturday.”

She places her hand over yours and smiles. “So what I’m hearing is a quiet night in with hotel room service.” She pauses, squeezing your hand. “And a ‘do not disturb’ sign.”

“That, Milton, is a very tempting offer. But we can go out for real food and then come back for that sign.”

“Either works for me.” She shrugs and takes another bite of pizza, a bit of sauce grazing the corner of her mouth. You lean in and kiss her, tongue flicking out and capturing it.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” Your own personal plans depend on however she replies.

“Grading Beowulf outlines and writing a comprehension test and doing a stupid scantron answer sheet.”

“Gosh Milton, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Disney World, but your night sounds so much better,” you tease and she laughs.

“Definitely.”

You hesitate, flipping your hand over under hers to hold hers lightly. “As always, tell me if I’m moving too fast but, you are welcome to come over and I’ll make a random scantron answer sheet for you and you can write questions and change answers around after. It takes one thing off your to-do list.”

She grins, setting down her pizza and moving it off of her lap. “And why would you helping me with a test be moving too fast?”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to hold you captive or anything, having you over every night.”

“Wait, you’re not planning to hold me captive? Then what were those handcuffs for?” She shrieks with laughter when you shove the pizza box out from between you and tackle her, hand behind her head protectively, kissing her fiercely.

“You’re bad, Milton.”

“You like it, Urie.”

-||-

You both agree that she’ll go get what she needs from her room, go home and change, and then head over.

It’s an hour later and she’s sitting on your couch, green pen in hand, muttering something about logical fallacies and as stupid as it sounds, you’d watch her grade for hours. She showed up in sinfully tight leggings and your black tee, hair in a messy bun, and glasses on. “Damn,” you whistled when you opened the door. “How do you look good in anything?” and she grinned, stepping inside and kissing you softly once you’d shut the door.

“Are you ready for Milton’s Torturedome?” She asks, holding a stack of outlines.

“I’m ready to watch you, although admittedly I can think of like five other things I’d rather watch you do.”

She grins. “Just five, Urie? I’m hurt.”

You groan and pull her over to the couch. “Stop teasing me and grade. Let me know when you want me to start on the scantron and how many questions you want.” That was 40 minutes ago.

You look over at her again, taking a break from your scantron coloring, and she’s biting her lip in thought. She can feel your gaze and she looks up at you with a smile. “Yes?”

“Just looking.”

“Mmmm. Well I think I’m just about done with these. How goes the scantron?”

You smirk, holding it up. “Urie...is every answer C?” She’s laughing and you shake your head.

“Nope the last one is D.” You turn it over to show her.

“And you say I’m the bad one.” She sets aside the pile of outlines and crawls into your lap. “That’s just evil.”

“I can change it if you wa-“

“No. It’s hilarious.” She yawns and stretches and you feel her thighs tense around yours. “True confession, I already have the Beowulf test written. I just need to shuffle answers now and I can do that tomorrow.”

You grin. “I like this true confession. What does it mean for our evening?”

She grins back, running a hand through your hair. “It means we can put on a movie and pretend to watch it for five minutes before we give in and start making out.”

“Fuck yes.”

When her phone alarm goes off at 10:30, she pulls away breathlessly and frowns. “I don’t wanna stop.”

You look up at her, her lips swollen and hair all over the place, shirt missing. She’s drawing patterns on your bare chest, connecting the dots between the various marks she’s left. “I don’t want to stop either, but we set an alarm for a reason,” you remind her woefully.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She rocks back onto her heels and fixes her hair. “What are we going to do Saturday night?”

You smirk, reaching out to caress the side of her breast. “I was hoping more of this.”

She giggles, and shakes her head. “No, I mean, yes but...for sleeping arrangements.”

“Oh, there’s usually another faculty member who goes, Mr. Dean, but he’s not teaching here this year. The school pays for two rooms for school employee chaperones.” She nods slowly.

“That sort of seems like a waste of money.” She grins, noticing your hopeful confusion. “I was hoping I’d be spending the evening in your bed.”

You groan, leaning up to tangle a hand in her hair and pull her back down on top of you. “Fuck, Milton, I want that too.” Your mouth is on hers and she grips the side of your face, moaning hungrily into your kiss.

Out of nowhere, she pulls back for a moment, thoughtful. “But obviously the kids will notice if we are in the same room. So...keep the room. Ask for adjoining ones if possible, to make things easier. I’ll just make an anonymous donation for the cost.”

You laugh, kissing her softly. “I’ve got it. Don’t protest.”

Thursday drags. Extended practice is rough today, not performance-wise, just as far as time goes. Friday is worse. You’ve both agreed it’s probably best to cut back on your time together at school over these two days, but you’re definitely regretting the choice. She probably is too.

She texts you late Friday evening. “Jeans and the band polo you gave me for tomorrow?”

You have several things you want to reply with, each implying your desire for her naked, but instead, you send back, “perfect” and a smiley face.

“Thanks Urie. Sleep well, and I’ll see you bright and early.”

She’s not lying; with Invitationals being so far away, the band and chaperones meet at the school at 5am. This is nothing for her, but the kids (and you) are lethargic. Fortunately for you, she’s taken charge of all bus logistics and is giving instructions. All you have to do is stand next to her to give her credibility with the band parents and not drag her to the ground and ravage her. That second one is easier said than done. She’s so hot with a clipboard in her hands. 

Everything goes smoothly and you’re boarded and rolling by 5:30 - a whole thirty minutes early. This will give you time to stop somewhere for breakfast - a drive thru - but hungry high schoolers are like piranhas so you’re grateful. You are both seated at the front of the bus, and manage to appear as just colleagues the entire 6-hour drive. It’s hard, but you’re not taking any chances.

Lunch, as always, is chaotic but when you step away to discuss something with the competition coordinator, you happen to glance back over and your heart is so full. She’s walking around, checking in with students, insisting they drink more water, calming down the nervous freshmen, answering questions from parent volunteers and generally keeping things running smoothly. She looks up, catches your eye, and breaks into a radiant smile. “Hi,” you mouth while the coordinator checks something with his supervisor. She smiles, giving you a soft wave.

This is the first competition of the season and while it doesn’t count as a qualifier for State for your region, your scores here have always been reflective of how you’ll do at competitions that carry some real weight. The kids know this and are nervous - but it’s the excited nervous that doesn’t have you worried. You and Y/n are sitting in the bleachers with the other parent volunteers; the two of you are at the very top of the bleachers to get as close to a judge’s view as you can get. The march-on is smooth and well executed; the cadence from the drumline already has the crowd excited. You’re more nervous than the students are honestly; the announcer always gives the name of the band director and the name of the show composer. This is the first year both will be your name and you are petrified. The band comes to a halt. Marissa waits, facing the judges’ window. Her hands are steady at her side.

“From Putnam High School in Putnam, Connecticut, the Putnam High Marching Band is under the direction of Mr. Brendon Urie and drum major Marissa Wayford. They are performing Heroes and Villains, arranged by Mr. Brendon Urie.” Her hand squeezes yours. “Putnam High Marching Band, you may take the field for exhibition.” You let out a sigh. That should reassure the kids. Scores, but not scores that really matter. It usually helps you.

Marissa strides to the podium, ascends gracefully. She scans left, scans right. “Band horns up!” You want to vomit. And then they’re off.

Her hand is still squeezing yours and you can’t breathe. They’re doing so well. You are meticulous and obsessive and you haven’t spotted anything. People are cheering at each musical transition; you feel less sick. This is going well. It’s going really well. She looks over at you and smiles. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers and you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your face. The crowd is screaming - there’s just something about a full company in a straight line forward march that drives people wild - it’s the band version of a dancer’s kickline, she whispers to you and you laugh.

Trumpet solo on Taps. She squeezes tighter and you both sigh in relief when that high note soars, pure and clear, through the stadium.

“Band horns down!” It’s over. It’s over. The entire crowd is on their feet roaring, and you’re staring at each other in ecstasy and her face, fuck, you can see how proud of you she is and without thinking, you grab her by the back of the neck and crush your mouth over hers. She moans into the kiss and tangles her hands in your hair, back arching so her chest is pressing into yours and your other hand is sliding down her back and she’s opening her mouth for your tongue and fuck this is so goo- oh fuck. Fuck.

You think it hits her at the same time and you both pull away from each other, panicked. Almost coordinated, you both whirl to the front and she lets out a sigh of relief that doesn’t even come close to what you’re feeling. The band is marching off and all of the parents are on still on their feet cheering.

“Odds that someone saw that?” You ask, breathing hard. Her eyes are still wide.

“Maybe one of the kids on the field but I doubt they’d know it was us.” You look around. You’re the only band with white show shirts. You and Y/n have on black band polos.

“I don’t know Milton...look around.” She does and comes to the same conclusion. She looks petrified. “I’m sure they didn’t look up here,” you soothe, unsure if you believe yourself. “They were probably watching Marissa and waiting for the march-off.” She nods and looks somewhat comforted.

“Okay. Let’s just go with that. We need to collect them and get them back on the bus, to the hotel, then divided into groups for dinner?” Making a plan calms her. She looks more confident.

“Yep. Let’s head down there now.” You reach for her hand and she gives you a pointed look and then grins. “Oh. Right.”

No one says anything about it to either of you walking to the bus or on the bus. The kids are chattering loudly about a variety of topics in the hotel lobby but you don’t hear either of your names. You might be okay. “Alright guys!” You get their attention and when they turn to look at you, you can see the glee in their faces. They know how well they did. “I’ll get scores emailed to me in about 4 hours. You’ve got time to get change, get dinner, and relax a bit at the hotel before we come back together in the meeting room downstairs. I’m so proud of you all. It was incredible to watch and I am just so, so excited for this season. Truly, an excellent job.” They can’t stop smiling and neither can you. “Now go change and stick stick with your groups.”

Y/n went up to change once you gave her her key, so ideally she’ll be ready to go to dinner once you get up there. To your mutual delight, the hotel was able to give you an adjoining room. You slide your key into the door, planning to knock on the connecting door to collect her for dinner. The green light blinks, you walk into your room, and all of your breath leaves your body. “Holy fuck Milton.”

She grins, leaning back on her elbows on your bed, eyes on you. “You like it?”

You nod silently, looking her up and down. “Did your friend make this for you too?” She giggles, shaking her head. “Stand up. I wanna see all of this.” She arches up, slipping off the bed and standing, turning slowly. The dress is a black silky material that plunges low between her breasts and slits high up her left thigh. “You know I’m not letting you leave the room in this, right?”

“That’s exactly what I was counting on.”

“Fucking hell Milton, come here.” She rushes into your arms and moans when you capture her lips in yours and tangles her arms around your neck. “I’m going to take you to bed now,” you tell her and she nods, giggling as you wrap your arms around her waist and lean back on the bed. It’s hard to do when making out, but you manage to scoot further up the bed and she’s making these sounds that are going straight to your dick and you just want to get her undressed when she pulls away breathlessly.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Urie.” She sits up and pulls you up by the collar of your polo. “And I’m going to show you just how proud I am.” Her fingers trail down your chest and her lips attach to your neck and you’re already trying to keep from thrusting against her. Once her fingers reach the hem of your shirt, she pulls it off and throws it off behind you. Her hands move back to your belt and once that’s off, she’s dragging your zipper down and wrestling your pants off. Her mouth closes over the top of your dick through your boxers and you think your eyes are going to roll back in your head.

“Fuck, honey, please,” you groan, running a hand through her hair and she looks up at you, eyes sparkling.

“Honey?” She repeats, running two fingers up and down your length, grinning.

“Fuck Milton don’t tease me right now,” you beg and she laughs, hooking her thumbs into the edges of your boxers and tugging down.

“I like it.” She wraps a hand around your dick and licks the tip lightly. “You calling me honey, I mean. I love this.” And then her mouth is on you and you inhale sharply.

“Holy fuck, your mouth,” you manage to choke out. She nods, moving her hand away so she can take you deeper. “Honey, Y/n, can I-“ and she takes your hand and places it in her hair. She’s looking up at you and moans around your dick and sweet fuck her mouth is so hot and wet and she’s sucking and licking and her mouth is just - “Paradise,” you groan, and you almost regret it when she pulls off, licking her lips.

“Come to the edge. I need to get on my knees for you.”

“Holy fuck.” You do as told and bite your lip as she sinks down to her knees between your legs and starts stroking you again. “Feels so good,” you gasp when her tongue teases the underside of your dick, moving in short quick strokes while her hand slides over you, faster and tighter.

“So fucking proud of you, just wanna show you.” She's licking all over you now, before pulling back and just holding you tightly, letting her lower lip rub over you. “Love having you in my mouth; fuck your dick is perfect,” she sighs, and you stroke her hair, groaning when she takes your length entirely, sucking hard and bobbing up and down, her tongue twisting before - is she yawning - oh Jesus fuck, you’re down her throat and oh god, where did she learn this? She’s humming now and the vibrations are sending shockwaves through you.

“Jesus, Y/n, I-“ Her fingers grip your thighs and she sucks harder while sliding up. “Milton, honey, please,” you beg and she stands, placing both hands on your chest and pushing you flat on your back.

“Just wanna lick and suck you for hours,” she whispers, sliding her dress off of her shoulders and letting it pool around her ankles. “But we don’t have hours, do we?” She’s in the most sinful black lace bra and thong you’ve ever seen and she crawls up over you, kissing you hard. You hold her to you, sliding your other hand down to touch her. Your fingers stop short, tracing the lace over her mound.

“Can I?” She nods, grabbing your hand and guiding you. “Oh god…” your head presses back into the mattress and she throws a leg over you so she’s only on one side of you. “What are you - oh thank god.” She’s wiggling out of her thong and turning, mouth back on your dick and giving you access to her wet pussy. “Honey, I need to taste you,” your voice is hoarse and she wiggles back, spreading her legs and dropping down slowly. You grab her hips and pull her down to your mouth. She’s so wet and you don’t want to wait, so you run your tongue over her once and then push in farther, really tasting her.

She lets out a shrill moan and tightens her fingers around the base of your cock, jacking you smoothly while her lips find your hip bones. She’s licking and sucking at them, nipping lightly and soothing with the rip of her tongue and you’re pretty sure this is how you’ll die, from a fucking heart attack. “Fucking love your hips Urie. And this V...so sexy.” She drags her tongue down, but pauses, breathing hard when you rub your nose over her clit. She looks back over her shoulder at you, gasping. “Brendon, fuck.”

“Want you,” you moan, licking her softly. “Want you naked under me, begging for it.”

“Okay, yeah, just give me one sec,” she whispers, continuing her trip down so she can gently pull your balls, one at a time, into her mouth, tongue massaging as her hand flies over your dick.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, and she moans, sliding her lips up the underside of your dick, fuck so hot and wet and she’s just torturing you with that tongue and - fuck yes she’s sucking you again. “God,” you moan, feeling your back arch and you inadvertently push deeper into her mouth. She takes it though, and her eyes flutter shut like she’s loving this and - “fuck, now,” you hiss, hands in her hair as she swallows eagerly. You’re trembling, totally spent, and her mouth is still on you, licking gently.

You don’t ever want to leave her mouth and she’s rotating off of your face until she’s on your side, dragging her lips up slowly and bringing your dick with her. Fuck, her eyes, that mouth, you might be ready to go in five minutes if she just keeps - “I think you said something about me begging for it?”

“Oh honey,” you groan and pounce, kissing her roughly and sliding two fingers in deep. You’re both ready.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual implications, and content.
> 
> NOTE: THIS IS STILL FROM BRENDON’S POV. I’m still using Y/n when Brendon’s referring to the reader because it seems easiest, but the second person “you” in this chapter is our boy.
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

She’s writhing under you, actually begging for your dick in her and her pussy is so tight and wet around your two fingers that you can hardly focus on your own pressing ha concern at hand. Did you pack condoms? You’re pretty sure you did. You’ve been fantasizing about this night with her since she first said she wanted to be in your bed. You did pack them, didn’t you?

It doesn’t matter though. The fire alarm is so sudden and loud that she almost rolls off the bed, and because of how she’s been clutching you desperately, you almost go with her.

“An emergency has been detected in the building. Please evacuate using the safest emergency exit...An emergency has been detected in the building. Please evacuate using the safest emergency exit...An emergency has been detected in the building. Please evacuate using the safest emergency exit...” The droning electronic voice is blaring almost louder than the alarm.

“Fuck,” you hiss, rolling off of her. “Okay, go get dressed and come back here quickly; we’ll go downstairs together.” She nods, scrambling off of the bed for her room and is back remarkably quickly in a pair of tight jeans you’ve never seen before and a solid green fitted tee. You’ve slipped your sneakers on and she comes over to fix your hair, while you gently wipe under her eyes where her mascara has smudged. “Ready? We both look like we’ve been taking a nap, right?”

“Yep. A really fun nap. Let’s evacuate using the safest emergency exit,” she says sulkily and you wrap your arm around her and leave the room. “I’m just saying, if this is real and we die in the stairwell, I’m going to be pissed. I would have rather died getting fucked by you.” You laugh and kiss the top of her head.

“You know this isn’t real.”

“That almost makes it worse,” she whines, looking up at you with needy eyes.

“I know honey. I know.” All is the students and parents are either still out at dinner or they chose to believe this alarm was fake; none of them are out here. You reach in your jeans pocket, the ones you pulled on in a rush, and are pleased to find your wallet. You look over and she’s got her phone. “We still have two and a half hours before the kids have to be back. Why don’t we ditch this place and you call us a Lyft and we’ll go get dinner?”

She smiles up at you, slipping a hand into yours. “That sounds really nice. Let’s do that.”

-||-

The Lyft pulls up and you both climb in. You’ve put in an address to your favorite restaurant in the area and she’s curled up under your arm and god, this just feels so natural. Your driver is pleasant enough, a young college-aged guy who quickly picks up on your desire to be alone. He turns on his music to something slow and vaguely seductive and gives you a thumbs up in the rearview mirror. You smile appreciatively; the kid is earning that 5-star rating.

He drops you off at the curb and you hope he’s the one to pick you up when you’re done at dinner. Her eyes light up and she turns to you. “I fucking love Mexican food.” You snake an arm around her waist and lead her inside.

“And this is really fucking good Mexican food.”

The two of you must be giving off hardcore couple vibes because the hostess gives you a curved booth in the back corner. Once you’re seated, she slides to be right against your side and you slip a hand over her thigh almost possessively. She looks up at you happily. “This is almost like a real date.”

You laugh and correct her. “This is a real date.” You dip your head down and she tips her head up to meet your mouth for a gentle kiss. As you part, you can see your waiter approaching. Excellent timing.

You order drinks and look down at her inquisitively. “Queso?” And she looks at you like it’s not even a question. You laugh and add that to the order and your waiter promises he’ll be right back with everything. She slips out to go to the bathroom so she can wash her hands, which is probably a good idea, all things considered. You’ll go when she’s back.

You’re laughing and feeding each other chips and you notice she’s got the tiniest bit of queso on the side of her mouth. When she isn’t looking, you swipe some cheese off of a chip. “Com’mere honey, you’ve got some queso- let me just-“ and as she turns to you, you carefully wipe more across her lips. She laughs, swatting at you playfully. “No no, I got it!” You insist as you kiss her and she presses closer. You pull away a little breathlessly. “Yeah, I think I got it.”

“That’s such a coincidence because you’ve got some on your face now too,” she grins and pulls you back in for more.

-||-

When dinner is over, you pay the bill and she pulls up Lyft. Looking over her shoulder, you comment, “can we request drivers on that thing? I liked that guy we had on the way here.”

She grins up at you. “Oh my little hermit. You can’t request drivers. Why did you like him? He was kinda quiet.” Her tone isn’t accusing, just curious.

“One, don’t make fun of your elders.” You touch the tip of your finger to her nose teasingly. “Two, he put on sexy music and gave me a thumbs up. I bet he’d let us make out.”

She arches an eyebrow as she submits the Lyft request. “You know we’re going back to a hotel, right? Where we have a room? To ourselves?”

You’re outside now and you’re wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. “Yeahhhhhhhh but I don’t wanna wait.”

She twists in your arms to kiss you. “Me either. Life is really hard, isn’t it?” You nod, pouting. A car pulls up and she pats your arm. “This is us. Let’s go Urie.” You release her and move around her to open the car door. “Thank you.” She smiles up at you and holds out her hand for you to join her.

You’re not so lucky this time; your driver is enthusiastic and chattery and could probably talk to a brick wall. Your face doesn’t betray what you’re feeling, but Milton must be reading your mind because she’s giggling into your arm and squeezing your hand. “Patience, love.” She whispers and you nod. If you were with literally anyone else, you’d be fine with this situation. But she’s not just anyone.

There’s not a crowd of people outside and the hotel appears to be intact. “We made the right choice, getting food,” you comment and she nods, taking your hand again.

“How much longer til we get scores?” She looks up at you curiously and you smile. “What?”

“Nothing. You just said ‘we.’ It made me happy.” You lead her into the elevator and pull her against you. “You care about the thing I love and it just makes me happy. Watching you today at lunch, you weren’t just going through the motions. You care like I care. It’s just one more thing that makes this feel so right.” She goes up on her toes to kiss you.

“It does feel right.” You’re still kissing her, mouths sliding open against each other, your hands trailing down her back to grab her ass and pull her against your stirring erection when the doors open. There’s a clearing of a throat and you both freeze.

Fuck. Fuck. Don’t be a student. Oh fuck. Don’t be a parent. Which would be worse? Fuck. Fucking fuck.

She drops back to her feet and slowly turns. Her body slackens in relief and yours does too. It’s a stranger. And fortunately, this is your floor - though you’d probably get off even if it’s wasn’t - so you grab her hand and pull her off with a quick “sorry!” and you both scurry down the hall, giggling like teenagers. You stop outside your door and are fumbling with your wallet to get the key out when she presses you against the wall and kisses you hard. “Honey, gonna let us get inside?” You gasp against her lips. She nods, slipping the key from your fingers and unlocking the door. She’s hitching a leg around your waist and you support her with one arm and you reach behind you to pull the door lever down. It gives and you walk backward, pulling her other leg up and teasing her mouth open for your tongue.

She pulls back, eyes heavy and chest heaving. “God, Urie, take me back to bed.”

You’ve managed to get her onto the bed and you’re pulling your shirts off over your heads you look down - “fuck Y/n, I forgot about this.” You run your hands over her breasts, reveling in the feel of her warm skin under the black lace.

“You forgot? I’m hurt Urie,” you tease, arching into his touch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll remember this forever,” you assure her, slipping a hand under her to unsnap it when she stops you.

“It opens in the front.”

“Oh fuck yes,” you murmur, and she reaches down to press the cups together, causing the center to crease and you find the snap. Her breasts spill out for you and she wriggles out of the straps as you attach your lips to one of her nipples, suckling gently. She whines softly, holding your head in one hand while the other moves down between your bodies so she can cup your erection through your jeans. “Feel how hard you get me?” Your breath is hot against her skin and she’s moaning and trying to get her hand down your pants. “Hang on, honey, I’ll take them off,” you promise, and it’s right when you’ve got your pants past your thighs and she’s stroking with enthusiasm that your phone rings.

“Motherfucker,” she groans, releasing your dick and falling back against the bed.

“No, fuck, no,” you practically cry, and she fumbles around the bed for your phone before tossing it to you. Scores are being emailed so any call this late is probably not good. Ignoring it is not an option. You take a deep breath and steady your voice. “Hello?” You shift back against the pillows and she curls into your side. “Uh huh. Yeah.” A pause. “Oh that’s terrible - No, I understand.” You look down at her and she kisses your chest. “Okay. Will you still be - or do I need to - okay.” She looks concerned and you smooth a hand over her hair. “Okay. Thank you. Yes, you too.” You hang up. “Well, fuck.” She props herself up on her forearm and looks at you. “There was an electrical fire in the auditorium where they were planning on doing the musicality evaluations tomorrow. No one is hurt but they’re closing the school tomorrow and probably Monday to check it over.”

She sighs. “At least no one got hurt?” You nod and fall back against the pillows, thinking.

“We could go home tonight. But we’d obviously still pay for the hotel. So it just makes sense to leave tomorrow morning, right?”

She nods. “Absolutely. Our driver wasn’t planning on driving back tonight. We can sleep in, have breakfast here, and then roll for home.” You nod too.

“They’re still sending out scores in about an hour, so once the kids are back, we’ll discuss scores and let them know they get to sleep in.”

She snuggles down against you and you wrap your arm around her. “It’ll be a reward for doing so well today,” she says encouragingly and you smile.

“That’s a good way to look at it.” She yawns a little and closes her eyes. “You sleepy, baby?” You ask, running your fingers through her hair. She nods lazily and opens her eyes to look up at you.

“Honey and baby, what on earth did I do to earn both?”

You smile. “You gave me one hell of a blow job earlier, and I really like you. You can go to sleep you know, I’ll wake you up when the scores are here.”

“But you wanna play,” she mumbles and you laugh.

“Honey, I’m always going to want to play with you. But you’re tired and I’m just as content to snuggle up with you and hold you while you sleep.”

“That sounds nice. You should get naked though.” She tells you, wiggling out of her own jeans and you push yours down the rest of the way, kicking them off. Once you’re both naked, you take her by the hips and pull her back flush against you. “Wake me up when scores are in,” she reminds you with one last yawn and you kiss the back of her neck.

-||-

“Milton, baby, wake up.” You’re kissing the back of her neck again and applying slight pressure with your fingertips to her waist, trying to rouse her gently despite your excitement. Her eyes flutter open and she turns to look at you, smiling sleepily.

“Hi.” Fuck she’s cute.

“Hi honey. Scores are in!” Her eyes snap open and she’s wide awake.

“Tell me tell me tell me.” She’s bouncing with enthusiasm and you inhale sharply, placing both hands on her shoulders to keep her down.

“Milton, I love that you’re excited but I need you to not do that right now when you’re naked. It is very distracting.”

She smirks. “Yes Mr. Urie. Now tell me tell me tell me!”

You stall, purposefully building the tension. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait until we’re with the band? To be surprised?”

She pouts playfully and fuck you need her not to do that either and she reminds you - “remember what happened last time we were surprised and excited with this show?”

“Fair enough. Let’s see.” You open the email, holding your breath. You both scan through the attached sheets before turning to look at each other.

“Holy fuck,” you say simultaneously. And then she’s pouncing on you, kissing you furiously as though you’re her only source of air and you can’t get enough of her; you want to live and die and solely exist in this moment.

When you finally break apart, lips swollen and chests heaving, you cup her face in one hand and she leans into it, trying to catch her breath. “We need to go tell the kids,” you murmur, and she nods, kissing your palm and rolling off the bed, looking for her clothes. “But we should probably both tidy up a little bit. We both look...well. They’ll know.” You stand side by side in the bathroom mirror, attempting to look professional. She's smoothed her back into a sleek bun and is splashing cold water on her face to reduce redness and swelling in her lips, while you comb through your hair and mimic her water trick since it seems to work.

She catches your eye in the mirror and grins. “We’re really cute.” You can’t help but smile and you wrap your arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Yes. We are.” You both stay there for a moment, just holding each other, relishing the moment. “Okay. Ready?” She nods and once you’re downstairs in the conference room, you send the message through the band Remind that scores are in and they should report to the conference room. You might be imagining it, but you think you hear doors opening and closing and feet flying down the hall. You wince a little, hoping they don’t disturb other guests if your hearing is accurate.

They come pouring into the room en masse, faces shining with hope and excitement. The parents are a bit slower, but the room slowly fills and everyone is present. You look around, trying to keep a serious face.

“In visual performance, out of 200 possible points, we received 195.” There’s a gasp of glee. “We were marked down on stamina and recovery, they want to see you really push to Dies Irae and not look like you just ran a marathon basically.” They nod, and a few of them are taking notes. “In musical performance, out of 200 possible points, we received 192.” Their eyes are wide. “They want more range and variety in musical skill, so really show off in those solos guys. You earned them, now flaunt it. They also want more contrast in your pianissimos and fortissimos. Everyone should be at their softest or loudest; don’t rely on your section-mates to accommodate you.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Finally, in overall effect, out of 400 points, we received 392.” Marissa bursts into happy tears in one of the front tables, covering her face. Y/n goes to her and places a hand on her back. “They want more nuances, so again, the contrast and the little details, and better pacing. All of this is doable. More than doable. And for those you who haven’t been doing the math as I go, that’s a total of 779 out of 800. And it’s a Superior rating.” You walk over and shake Marissa’s trembling hand. “Well done Madame Drum Major. Well done all of you.” The room explodes and Y/n smiles softly at you.

“Congrats,” she mouths and you grin.

“And I have other news everyone - it’s technically bad but it works in your favor.” You explain the situation with the electrical fire and how they won’t be performing tomorrow, but they do get to sleep in and eat breakfast here before heading home. Everyone looks happy, especially the parents. “Now, lights still have to be out at 11pm,” you remind them, “and all of the usual rules apply.”

-||-

You’re both sitting back in bed, arms around each other, just reveling in the moment. “We should play a game.” She looks up at you with bright eyes.

You laugh. “Oh yeah? What kind of game?” She shrugs and you tickle her side lightly. “Excellent contribution, Milton. A+ work there,” you tease and she pouts. “I’m sorry. Why don’t you tell me what you want to happen as a result of said game and we’ll figure out one that achieves it?”

She’s grinning now. “I want embarrassing stories and kisses.”

“We don’t have to play a game for you to get either of those,” you tell her, laughing a little. “I’m an open book, remember?”

“Mmmmm,” she agrees, running a finger down your chest. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you did as a child? That you remember?”

You tip your head back to think. “Oh! Oh god,” you laugh harder. “Okay so. We used to do breakfast for dinner on Tuesday nights with my grandparents. And I had this amazing piece of turkey sausage. So good. And I’m just, you know, trying to get all of the juices out of it like one does.” She’s laughing behind her hands. “And my grandma asks, Brendon, what are you doing? So I tell her loudly that I am in fact sucking on my sausage. My older brother then does a spit take of orange juice all over my grandfather.” You both laugh for a minute and you look over at her. “What about you?”

She grins. “I’ll let you choose. Age 5 or age 10?” You pause to think before deciding on 5. “Okay so. When I was in kindergarten, it was Valentine’s Day. And this boy I had a crush on - shut up” she must see the grin on your face - “was wearing red pants so I walked up to him and was like, hey my underwear matches your pants and he was like really? And I said yes, wanna see? And he said yes so I dropped my pants on the playground.” You’re wiping tears from laughter and she’s hiding her face, clearly embarrassed.

“That’s incredible. Oh my god. That’s incredible.” She gives in and is laughing too before trying to catch her breath.

“Okay. I want to hear about your first kiss.”

“It was you.” Her eyes widen ever so slightly and you start laughing. “Oh my god I’m kidding. I was 14 and her name was Cherry.” She blinks at you. “I’m not kidding this time. Her name was Cherry and it was on a dare and she put her tongue in my mouth and it was...fine.” Your tone says ‘fine’ is a generous way of putting it. You look at her. “And yours?”

“Oh god. So embarrassing.” You lean in and kiss her softly, lips caressing hers and she moans a little, pressing forward and whining when you pull away. “It definitely wasn’t like that,” she laughs. “It was in High School Musical 3,” and you can’t help the snort of laughter. “I know. And it wasn’t even during the really sweet Right Here, Right Now. It was during I Want It All.” Her face sours a little and you pull her close. “And he just sort of shoved his tongue in my mouth and pushed me down in the couch.” Your jaw tightens and she reaches out to stroke your face. “No, it’s okay. He broke up with me like two weeks later.”

You feel the shock on your face. “How is that okay?!”

“Because I’m fine now. So it doesn’t really matter in the end.” You lean over and kiss her again and she melts into your embrace. “So. More embarrassing stories.” She pulls back, grinning wickedly. “Tell me about the first time you went down on a girl.”

You laugh, running a hand over your face. “God, it was so...I don’t even know. I was enthusiastic, that’s for sure. I can’t brag on my technique, but I was enthusiastic. She was kind. She laughed, but because of how...yeah. I was. She wasn’t mean about it.” She grins.

“Well, I wanna send her a thank you note for not discouraging you.” She nudges you playfully and you smirk, pulling her on top of you.

“And just think, you haven’t even gotten my full attention. Fuck, I love pussy. Around my fingers, on my tongue, my dick, my face...fuck. Just love it. When I first tasted you, you had my dick in your mouth so I was verrrrrrry distracted.” She raises her eyebrow and bites her lip and fuck you want to bite it for her - “your turn. First blow job?”

“I feel like it was the same as yours. I was so enthusiastic and so...lacking in refined technique. He actually grabbed me by the hair and was moving my mouth for me. Which, looking back, was not cool.” She pauses, thinking. “It was my junior year of high school after a football game, actually. My boyfriend wasn’t in band or on the football team but came to all of the games and we drove ourselves to home games, so yeah we were in my car making out and he just sort of...pushed my head down. I didn’t mind exactly - I mean. I wanted to make him feel good. I just. I don’t know.” You frown at her.

“That’s fucked up. You know that right?” She shrugs and you bend your head to meet her eyes. “That’s not okay that he did that. I don’t ever want to make you feel like that. That’s bullshit and I want you to call me on my bullshit, okay?” She nods and you smile. “Good. That’s what couples do.” She meets your eyes in surprise and you grin. “You are my girlfriend now, aren't you? I realize now I shouldn’t have assumed and I probably should have asked but, you are my girlfriend, right?”

She beams up at you and nods. “You’re my boyfriend.” And you can't stop smiling as you go to kiss her again.

“You’re damn right I am.”

“Are we still playing our game?” She smiles up at you. “I have more embarrassing stories to get out of you.”

“Well when you ask like that…” you give her a sardonic look and she giggles. Fuck, she’s cute.

“What’s the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done?” You stop to think, and she modifies. “Okay, What’s the dirtiest thing you’ve done while we’ve been together?”

You look down at her, surprised. “You really want to know?” She nods, giving you an innocent smile.

“I’ll go first if you want,” she offers, and you nod. You need to see what she qualifies as dirty, just in case. “Before we were together but were hanging out and on duty together, I’d have these fantasies. That’s where I ‘was,’ when I seemed distracted. Anyway, one day it got to be too much and I just couldn’t focus so I went into the teachers lounge at the end of the hall and fingered myself until I came.” You’re a little stunned and a lot turned on.

“What day was that, honey?”

She blushes a little. “The day I brought you a water bottle at practice and you kept making innuendos about your dick and the tower and you were just - fuck you looked so sexy and I mean. You normally look sexy. This was just a new level and I didn’t know how to handle it and I knew I couldn’t wait to get home so…”

“Wait, that was the same day you walked in on me drumming, isn’t it?” She nods. “Fuck Milton, and you were in that short tight skirt…” you close your eyes and imagine it for a moment. “Fuck.”

She blushes and pokes you in the chest. “Your turn.”

You laugh lightly, definitely already regretting using the true moment and not making something up that was more innocent. “Mine also has to do with personal gratification. I, uhm. The morning I woke up to your panties on my alarm clock, I was so hard and then your fucking lace panties fell into my hand and I jacked off, using them.”

She looks intrigued. “Using them how?”

“You really wanna know?”

She nods. “So hot, hearing this.”

This bolsters you. “Well, I started by just rubbing the lace up and down my dick, and eventually I was rubbing them over my tip in small circles, stroking myself with my other hand harder and harder and finally I came on them.”

Her face is a little flushed and she’s breathing harder than normal. “So sexy Urie,” she moans, propping herself up to suck on your lower lip. When she releases it from her own lips, she looks up at you again. “Honestly, given how much you love pussy, to quote you, I’m surprised you didn’t put them in your mouth.”

You groan and nod. “Thought about it but by the time it occurred to me, I was pretty invested in how that lace was rubbing against my dick and I needed to come. I soaked them in hot water before I brought them to school, don’t worry.”

“I’ll be sure to get you another pair, if you want them.” You nod eagerly, and she blushes.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you, sexually.”

You chuckle a little. “I need you to be more specific, honey. What do you want to know?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Any kinks, anything you hate in bed, whatever.”

You think for a moment. “Ohhhh, I know.” You smile at her warmly. “I really, really like dirty talk. But not necessarily just talking. I guess you’d call it sexting? I call it digital foreplay.” You wink at her. “And I’m possessive. Maybe that’s not the right word. Protective? Not jealous or anything. But if we’re out, I don’t mind PDA. I’ll get a little handsy, within reason considering the setting. Just like to tell other guys to fuck off with my actions so you don’t have to. I’m sure you could with no problems; but I don’t even want you in that situation. Not if I can prevent it. Some guys are crazy.” You kiss the top of her head. “And you? What should I know about you sexually?”

She stretches a little, considering. “I don’t mind being teased for the most part. But if you’ve been texting me all day, don’t tease me more at night. Foreplay is great but don’t be a jerk about it.” She grins. “And I like being protected and possessed a bit. If I come out with you somewhere, I want you to want to know where I am and want to make sure I’m okay.” She yawns a little. “I’m really sleepy now,” she mumbles and you pull the covers up over the two of you.

“Go to sleep honey. I’ll wake you up for breakfast.” You kiss her forehead and snuggle down beside her. “But,” you whisper in her ear, “you should know I’m going to start teasing you soon, now that I know you're okay with it. I have a lot of filthy thoughts about you, Milton.”

-||- 

His voice is so soothing, you almost don’t even register the words he’s saying. By the time you process them, your eyes are closing and you don’t have the energy to reply.

It seems like only mere moments later that he’s waking you for breakfast and you roll from the bed to the bathroom to attempt to look human.

All of the kids seem well-rested at least, even if you’re still exhausted. You slept well, really you did. You’re just so mentally drained and you feel like you need another 7 hours of sleep.

The kids are packed and you’re all back on the bus. Once everyone is seated, he slides a hand over your thigh, fingers pressing down between your legs. He glances around; the kids are either talking to each other or have their headphones on or are asleep. The parents are just as distracted. He leans in close, and you feel a shiver go through you when his breath caresses your ear. “Wish I could have woken you up with my tongue and fingers in that gorgeous pussy of yours baby. Gotten you so wet for me, eaten you for breakfast in our bed.” You stifle a groan. “But what I’m really thinking about is getting home and spreading you out on my bed and hearing you beg for me. I want you so wet it’s all over your thighs and I get to clean you up with my tongue before I give you what you want.”

It’s going to be a long bus ride and you can’t fucking wait to get back to his home so he can deliver on these promises.

Somewhere around the third hour on the bus, you look over at him. “You are going to take me back to your place and follow through on all of this, aren’t you?” You must look worried because he squeezes your thigh.

“I wouldn’t get you all worked up and not deliver.”

Sure enough, as soon as the band room is cleared of students and parents and mess, he grabs your hand. “Come on, I’m driving.”

“But my car is here,” you protest.

“And I’ll drive us both here in the morning.”

You realize you don’t even care at this point, you just want to be in bed with him. You get in his car.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual implications, content, oral sex, and sex without a condom (Not sex advice from me to you, make good choices), and some really filthy language. I’m only slightly sorry.
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“Ohhhh fuck, Brendon,” you gasp when his tongue swipes over you.

“Yeah honey, say my name,” he urges, using a shoulder to spread you wide for him, licking softly. “Love how you just let me have you, baby. So sweet.”

You sigh, rolling your head back into his pillow as he pulls back to feather kisses over the inside of your thigh, thumbs moving in soft circles over your hips. He looks up at you from between your legs and you have to catch your breath. “I know you don’t want me to tease you, and I don’t want to tease you either, but I really want to take my time with you. Is that okay?” You nod, and he smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.” And with that, his head is back between your legs and you think you could die from how gentle and tender he’s being, just licking and dipping his tongue into you, groaning as he really tastes you. You try to focus on breathing and just enjoying, and honestly, he’s making it really easy to enjoy. You’re gripping the sheets under you, fingers twisting and tugging and - he’s taking one of your hands and putting it on the back of his head, fuck. You grip his hair and close your eyes, focusing on the soft wetness of his mouth moving over against you. It feels like he’s kissing you, the way his lips open and close and rub and slide and his tongue flits in and out delicately. He wasn’t lying; he really does love this. His hands frame your hip bones and he twists his head slightly to run his tongue over the sides of you and you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out when the tip of his tongue moves upward, just barely grazing your clit before sliding down the other side. His eyes flick up to yours. “Feels good, baby?” You nod, subtly rocking your hips upward to get more. “You want more?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He moves one of his hands down from your hip to slide two fingers against your wetness. He’s rubbing his knuckles over your folds and you’re gasping, pressing down, searching, so he gives you what you really want and stretches his fingers back out. He’s stroking and spreading you so the width of his tongue can move over you and he’s just watching you. “Baby, please,” you gasp and rock against him, tightening your hand in his hair. He must see in your eyes how badly you need it because he gives the tiniest nod and smile before redoubling his efforts. He’s really working his lips and tongue against you now and you feel like you’re melting into the bed. Just when you thought he couldn’t make you feel any better, he starts to lightly suck at your clit and you cry out, throwing your free hand over your mouth.

“No honey, let me hear you. You’re not gonna disturb anyone. I wanna hear how good you feel.” His voice is so soft and sweet that you whimper and he smiles. “Yeah baby, just like that.” He scoots up on his forearms to suck you at a higher angle; his lower lip hits about halfway down while his top lip rests against the swell of your mound and his tongue is just rolling over you. This new angle has his forearms resting between your thighs so he hitches one of them onto his shoulder. Taking the hint, you slant your leg down across his back and he gently runs his fingers along your outer thigh, groaning softly against you, before slipping his hand under you and pressing his hand to the small of your back, raising you up ever so slightly. You can’t help it, this new angle makes you moan and he murmurs something against you, eyes closed as his mouth works. He’s grasping with his hand, the one not pressing you up to his mouth, and he catches the edge of the pillow beside your head. With one swift tug, he brings it down and slides it under your hips. “Is that better, baby?” His dark eyes shine between your thighs and all you can think is, he didn’t lie; he’s taking such good care of you and you’re definitely going to come from this.

You nod, biting your lip and he drops back down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, suckling at the skin there. “Fuck, feels so good,” you whisper, and he smiles, his lips curving against your wetness. “You’re gonna make me come,” you tell him breathlessly.

“That’s all I want.” When he winks at you, you feel another rush of heat and fuck, he’s still watching you and he’s teasing your folds with two fingers. “Can I touch you, honey?” You nod, gasping when both fingers slide in. “God Y/n, your pussy is to die for. So warm and wet and tight; fuck, I can’t wait to feel you come for me.” He’s moving gently, really savoring how your walls clench around him, and he meets your eyes with a smile. “You feel so good,” he tells you, and you moan softly. “You want more?” You nod and he slides his fingers in slightly deeper before curling them back towards his body.

“Oh, god.”

“Yeah baby, just let yourself feel it.” Watching you carefully, he leans forward and rubs the tip of his tongue against your clit.

“Fuck!”

“That’s it, Y/n, tell me how good it feels.” His voice is so soothing and low; under the warm velvet of his words is the coiling tension of desire. “Wanna make you feel so good.”

You’re trying to catch your breath and you only manage the word, “harder,” before your head falls back against the pillow. He doesn’t increase his pace but does up the force and you’re rocking up into his face now, crying out with every firm stroke of his tongue. “God, Brendon, baby, please,” and he’s gotten what he wants; you’re begging him.

“Tell me, honey.”

“Fuck, please make me come, baby, please make me come.”

He flips his hand over so his palm is down against you and he’s moving faster now and fuck, you’re right there. His tongue presses hard against your clit before slurping one long stroke up from his fingers, still rocking in and out of you forcefully, over you and sucking hard.

You can’t make any words, it’s just unintelligible moans and pleads falling from your lips and he groans against your pussy. You’re almost there, you can feel the tightening, when he spreads his two fingers wide inside of you and plunges his tongue in deep, the base of it rubbing hard against your clit.

Both hands are in his hair now and you come hard with a shrill moan, feeling a rush of heat. He’s still working his tongue deep in your pussy, thrusting until you’re trembling, whimpering, and coming down from your climax. He pulls back gently, sucking softly and swirling his tongue around you as he goes, fingers pressing into your thighs. When his mouth leaves you entirely, he keeps your thighs spread for him so he can lick over them, long broad strokes, savoring you, cleaning you up.

You look down at him, both hands still deep in his hair and you whimper. His face is wet with you, actually wet and shining with your juices, holy hell. He looks up at you and grins as he licks his lips before sucking you off his fingers. “So fucking sexy, honey. Love that you can let go like that for me.” He runs his hand over his face and goes back to licking it, eyes shut. He must be able to feel you watching him because he explains, “you taste so fucking good; I don’t wanna miss out on a single drop.”

“Holy fuck,” you sigh, and he opens his eyes, lashes fluttering as his tongue moves over his palm.

“Yeah?” You nod, and he smiles. “You ready for more?” You nod enthusiastically and run a hand across yourself before grabbing his erection and stroking him firmly, using your thumb to spread the pre-cum that’s appeared over the head of his dick. It’s 2am at this point; you’ve got to be up for school in 2 hours but you don’t even care.

He groans and rocks into your slick grasp, eyes closing for a moment, just enjoying. You squeeze him gently and ask, only slightly kidding, “your phone is off or not in the room?” He nods. “Your door is locked?” He nods. “No one could possibly interrupt us?” He shakes his head and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. Now come here,” you whisper, and he crawls over to you, before reaching over you to rummage in the bedside table drawer. “You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, and his eyes go wide. “I’ve got an IUD. It would take divine intervention to get me pregnant.”

He looks at you carefully, so hopeful. “Are you sure? I don’t mind, really.” You nod.

“I’m sure. I want to feel you. All of you.” He groans and shifts over you, and you spread your legs for him. “I should tell you,” you say before he presses against you, “I haven’t had sex since my ex. So about two years now. Fingers and tongues are one thing but…” you trail off nervously.

He reaches out to caress your cheek. “I’ll be gentle, honey. Unless you ask for something else.” You nod, biting your lip and he slowly, carefully presses against you. You moan as he enters you, stretching you, and you’re grateful for his fingers and attention earlier. “You okay?” He pushes his hair back and drops down to his forearms so you’re chest to chest. You grip his upper arms with your fingers, nodding. He’s maybe halfway in and the fullness already feels amazing. “You want me to wait?” You shake your head.

“No, I’m okay. You feel really good.” At your words, you feel him throb a little inside you and you sigh happily. He kisses you softly and slides in the rest of the way, swallowing your cry of pleasure. “Fuck you feel so good,” you whisper, and he rests an arm above your head so he can hold himself up over you enough to start moving.

“I was right, your pussy is a gift from God, holy fuck baby,” he chokes out, eyes on yours. “You’re squeezing my cock so tightly; feels fucking incredible.” His thrusts are slow and deep; you can feel all of him moving against you and while your ex never made you come like this, you’re pretty sure Brendon will.

You whine a little, reaching up to bring his mouth down to yours. “Keep talking,” you beg, rocking your hips up, letting him fill you more.

“You like hearing me tell you about your perfect pussy and how much I love being deep in you?” You nod, gripping his shoulders and keeping your hips moving. “I’m thinking about you at school in three hours, walking around feeling empty and missing my dick, clenching your thighs together because you’re still so fucking wet for me.” You moan, pressing your head back into the pillow and he pounces, kissing your neck. “I won’t leave any marks, honey, but I don’t need to mark you for you to know we belong to each other. You already fucking know it, don’t you?” His hips snap forward and you hiss in pleasure, nodding and raking your nails down his back. “Don’t worry baby, that ache in your thighs will remind you if you forget you’re mine,” he whispers in your ear.

“Your mouth,” you moan, “is so fucking hot.” He leans over to kiss you fiercely, his free hand moving from your hip to your breasts, rolling and teasing your nipples individually before leaning down and feathering hot, wet, kisses to each and suckling tenderly. You cry out and arch your back, pressing your chest closer to his mouth and he lets his lips part, tongue slipping out to stroke over the swell of your breast. His eyes meet yours and you try to catch your breath.

“How you feeling, honey? Is this okay?” His hand moves back to hold your hip almost protectively. You nod, biting your lip in pleasure as he rubs up against a particularly good spot inside you. “You need anything different, want anything different?”

You smile and run a hand down his back. “You can go harder.” He frowns a little, about to protest, and you put a finger over his lips. He tips his head back to suck it into his mouth and you moan. “Really, you can. You won’t hurt me,” you promise, cupping his face. “Is there anything you need different or want different?”

He shakes his head, freeing your finger and rocking his hips harder, faster against you at your reassurances. “I’m great. I’m definitely gonna come from this tight little pussy of yours here, and I have no complaints.” He kisses you, sliding his tongue into your mouth and you grab his head, moaning into his mouth as his tongue teases yours. He pulls away to gaze at you tenderly. “Don’t worry Milton, I have a dream list of ways and places to fuck you, but right now, this first time, I want it to be just simple; you and me, working together for pleasure. I just wanna make you feel good, baby.” He kisses your forehead and you spread your legs wider, rolling up into him. “I want you to be thinking about this, about us in this bed, until the next time we’re together. I want you dreaming of and aching for me.”

“Oh, god, oh fuck,” you moan, “I’m close.”

“Baby, if you come on me, I won’t be able to hold back,” he murmurs in your ear and you whimper. “I want you to come for me, honey. Wanna feel that gorgeous pussy of yours squeeze my dick tight as you come for me.”

“Fuck, Bren, pull my hair.” Your voice is high and tight and he knows you’re close so he does as you ask; he runs a hand through your hair to grasp close to your scalp and tugs lightly. “Harder, fuck,” you whimper, and he obliges, relishing the low moan you can’t restrain. “God, fuck, Bren, right there - oh - Jesus, fucking hell - now-“ you break down into a wordless cry, feeling yourself squeeze around him hard. With a soft groan, he pulls your hair again, thrusting into you once more before releasing. You whimper, arching your hips up to cradle him between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby, that was so good.” He brushes his lips over your forehead and you sigh, letting your legs go limp. He rolls off of you and you curl into his side, making a soft noise of contentment.

“It really was. God, I’ve never felt like that.” You grin up at him. “You fuck like a drummer, Urie, you know that?” He looks confused and you smirk, closing your eyes. “Excellent rhythm and relentless stamina.” He laughs appreciatively and you yawn, snuggling in and he pulls the blankets up over you both. “How long until we have to wake up?”

He looks thoughtful. “Well, that depends. Do you want to be there as early as you usually are?” You groan, closing your eyes. “Or do you wanna lie here with me until we have to get up?”

You laugh. “That’s not even a fair question,” you tease and poke him in the stomach. He grins and pulls you in tightly.

“Sounds like we’re sleeping in and I’m making breakfast.” He kisses the top of your head once more and you both sigh happily before drifting off.

-||-

Your eyes flutter open and it feels like it’s only been five minutes since you drifted off. “Something smells good,” you mumble, and you turn to him but he’s gone. “Brendon,” you moan, aware of how pathetic you sound, but it works.

He appears in the door of the bedroom, holding a platter of bacon and peanut butter toast. “You called, dearest?” He grins when you sit up and you reach out with both hands, grasping eagerly. “Is that for me or the food?”

“Both,” you whine, laughing. “Gimme.” He comes over and crawls into bed, handing you the plate. “Mmmmmmmmmm peanut butter,” you sigh happily, and he feeds you a piece of toast, laughing as you munch at it happily.

“Not many people recognize the deliciousness that is the combination of peanut butter and bacon,” he remarks, and you look at him in disbelief. “I know!” he laughs, taking a bite.

You reach for a piece of bacon and sigh. “You know, I don’t even know what time it is?”

“Do you want to know?”

“Not really. Will we be late for school?” He shakes his head. “Then nope. I’m good.” You pause, chewing thoughtfully. “Don’t we have a meeting during planning?”

He nods. “Probably just homecoming stuff.” He eyes you slyly. “Do you want to sit together?” You grin.

“Will you distract me and whisper dirty things in my ear the entire time?”

“Almost definitely.”

“Then yes.”

You shower together, and it’s definitely your favorite way to start a morning. You both behave yourself relatively well, only getting lost in the slickness of each other’s bodies a few times and sharing wet kisses under the water. You don’t have to wash your hair, so it’s over sooner than you’d like, but the toweling off is nice too.

He sits on you on the bathroom counter and stands between your legs while you both brush your teeth and he wraps his arms around you from behind while you quickly apply your makeup. “I know I keep saying it, but this just feels right,” he murmurs against your shoulder.

“I won’t get tired of hearing you say it,” you reply, puckering your lips at him playfully as you apply your lipstick.

“Good.”

-||-

Today is going to be a long day for you; the students have an in-class day to work on their Beowulf papers and all you have to do is answer questions and keep them on task. Also, keep yourself focused. His head between your legs, his fingers teasing you, his tongue in your mouth, his hips rocking against yours while he pulls you hair and tells you to come...fuck. You’re not sure if being near him in this meeting today will help or exacerbate the longing...but if he really is going to tease you the whole time, you’re going to need a lot of attention tonight.

The great part of having meetings during planning, for you two at least, is that you’re the only English teacher with 3rd block planning - a scheduling anomaly, you’re assured - next year you’ll share a planning with someone on your hall so you can plan together. But because no one from your hall has this planning, no one will think it’s odd that you’re sitting with the band director and not your department colleagues.

Planning period meetings are in the library, so you head there, laptop in hand. The email from the Homecoming Chair suggested everyone bring theirs, and you’re only too happy to oblige.

The two of you sit next to each other and open your MacBooks, and you’re sure you both look very attentive as Deborah runs through the importance of “cohesive float color schemes.” Silently, stealthily, he leans over and hits the mute button on your keyboard.

You give him a confused look but that’s quickly alleviated when your iMessage notification pops up.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You turn to look at him and smile, before typing, “luckily for you, I’m right here.”

He furrows his brow. “Yeah, but I can’t do anything.”

You try to keep a straight face and your eyes on the PowerPoint above as your fingers fly. “What do you mean? What do you want to do?”

He adopts your behavior, typing casually and nodding at what seem to be appropriate moments of Deborah’s presentation. “I want a lot of things.”

You smirk but quickly adjust your face. “Like what?”

“I want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you. I want to lock the door to my office and get on my knees for you. I want to pull those tight pants off your body and run my tongue over every inch of you. I know why you’re wearing those pants; it’s because you’re still so fucking wet for me and my dick; you couldn’t risk wearing a skirt and getting your slickness all over your thighs. Fuck Y/n, I want to lick and suck and fuck you on my desk until you can’t take it anymore. I want to make you come hard, and I want to watch my cum slide down those thighs after you bring me off with that fantastic pussy of yours.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Jesus Bren, warn a girl.”

He grins, sliding a hand up your thigh and sending one last message.

“Honey, that was your warning.”

Fuck.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual implications, content, dirty talk.
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

The rest of the day drags and you’re hoping the two of you will get to spend some time together this evening, but it’s to no avail. Not only does he have extended practice tonight, there’s a Band Boosters meeting and, as he tells you, “those can go for hours. Although,” he looks at you slyly, “I’d love to come home and have you waiting in my bed.” He does come home, and you are waiting in his bed, but it’s 11pm and while you fought it hard, sleep has won. He slips into bed and pulls your body close to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late, honey.” You mumble something sleepily and he strokes your hair, lulling you back and himself into sleep for the first time.

It’s not the night you anticipated, but waking up in his arms and bed is still a great way to start the day. Today’s breakfast, pancakes with fresh berries, is delicious and you share several sticky, berry-flavored kisses until he carries you to the shower. Over the spray, you discuss your plans for the day and he laughs when he finds out you’re starting your unit on love and relationships today. “What would your kids do if I showed up and asked you to dinner in the middle of your class?” He’s got you pressed against the wall and you consider.

“They’d freak the fuck out. But it doesn’t matter because we have the same planning. You couldn’t come during any of my classes.” He shrugs, waving his hand as if to imply that’s a trifling detail. “But hypothetically, if you could and were to do so, they’d flip out.”

“And what would you do?” He looks at you curiously.

You think about it. “Well, I’d say yes of course. But is it the best idea? Won’t it just get us negative attention?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know, they seem to like us together if the whispers mean anything.” You hesitate. “Unless...you don’t want us to be out in the open?” He looks a little hurt.

“Bren, god no, that’s not what I mean at all. It’s just that teachers at my old school were ‘quietly encouraged’ to not pursue personal relationships with each other and I just don’t want either of us to get in trouble or whatever.”

His face softens. “It’s not like that here. I mean. I wouldn’t know personally or anything but I’ve seen other couples become established and whatever.”

You nod slowly. “Well, I’m okay with it if you are.” You hesitate. “But that probably means we won’t be allowed to chaperone band trips anymore.”

He laughs a little, taking both of your hands in his and lacing your fingers together. “Probably. But I’d rather miss you for one day than hide how I feel about you every other day.”

You smile and kiss him, moaning softly as he moves his lips across your jawline and down your neck. “You make an excellent point Mr. Urie.”

“Mmmm, I thought so,” he mumbles against your skin, pushing your hands above your head and dipping his mouth down to tongue at your breast. “We’ve gotta get out and get ready,” he whispers after a moment and you groan. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll finish this later.”

You give him a playful look. “We better.” He grins and leans around you to shut off the water and slides the door back to grab two towels.

You both step out and start drying off. “You coming over tonight?” He looks at you expectantly and you nod.

“As long as you want me.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that.”

-||-

“Alright, who can explain the difference between a Shakespearean and a Petrarchan sonnet?” You look at the class expectantly. After a long silence, you laugh lightly. “I’ll rephrase the question. Who can explain the difference between an English and an Italian sonnet?” It’s in the continuing silence that the knock falls on your door. “Saved by the guest.” You grin and point at them. You open the door and gasp a little. In front of you is the most beautiful bouquet of pink stargazer lilies you’ve ever seen, and Tyler, the senior intern working in the main office this block, holds them out to you.

“These were delivered for you.”

You accept the bouquet, somewhat stunned, and thank him before turning around. The entire class is looking at you with interest. “And who are those from?” Eric asks from the back of the room, grinning. Jessica echoes the question and you pluck the card from its holder.

You scan it quickly and read it silently. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Dinner?” You look up and try to hide the giddy smile. “Ah. They’re from Mr. Urie.” The room explodes. Jessica is demanding more information, Caroline is scolding her, and Eric and Brian engage knowing smirks. “If I tell you what the card says, will you focus on sonnets after?” They nod and you laugh a little. “I don’t think I believe you, but okay. He’s asking me to dinner.” They start to erupt again and you set the flowers on your desk, holding up both hands. “No follow-up questions. Sonnets. Eric, what’s the difference between the two?”

After Eric stammers out something passable that you can work with, you confirm and elaborate. “Yes, the English is 3 quatrains and a couplet, while the Italian is an octave and a sextet. Good. Take out the sonnet you picked up earlier and read through it. I want you marking rhyme scheme and doing some close reading.”

They’re quiet for a moment, eyes scanning. Caroline looks up at you. “Ms. Milton, this is so romantic.”

You smile. “Most are. This is a particular favorite of mine.”

Brian smirks. “Did Mr. Urie write you this?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Points for timing, Brian. But no, he didn’t. This is a bit older than either of us. But I’m guessing we’re mostly done? Based on the rhyme scheme, what type of sonnet is this?” Shockingly, Brian volunteers. Even more shockingly, he’s right. “Yes! This is an English or Shakespearean sonnet, and like I said before; it’s one of my absolute favorites. This is Sonnet 116. So. Let’s talk about what it means!”

All things considered, they do surprisingly well with it and at the end of the class, they give it a collective thumbs up.

-||-

Second block is equally curious, and excited, about the flowers and take longer to settle and refocus, but eventually you get to the sonnet and feel accomplished. Not only are they making clear connections and grasping content, they’re actually enjoying it too. When the bell rings, you don’t rush out after them, but pause and gaze at the flowers. They’re just stunning. You want to see him. You grab your copy of Sonnet 160, the sonnet for tomorrow, and head out the door.

He lets you in moments after you knock, smiling. “I was hoping I’d see you.”

You close the door behind you and kiss him softly. “Thank you for the flowers. They’re gorgeous.” You kiss him again. “And dinner sounds great.”

He beams. “Excellent. I have extended practice tonight, so I’ll go home and shower and pick you up around 8:15?” You nod, and he looks you up and down. “Damn you look good.”

You giggle. “Urie, I got dressed at your house. I haven’t changed.”

He shrugs, taking your hand and leading you into his office. “I can’t compliment my girlfriend?” He kicks the door shut behind you gently and pulls you in for a deeper kiss. “Because if I can’t compliment you, that really doesn’t bode well for everything else I have planned.”

You look at him curiously, somewhat amused. “You can compliment me. And you know you can do whatever you want with me.”

“In that case, I want everything but the skirt off.” He crosses the office and locks the door, turns off the light, and pulls the blinds. “And to be safe, I emailed the main office I was on a conference call with band clinic people. No interruptions.” He comes back over to the desk and takes his phone off the hook, letting the receiver dangle to the floor. You’re unclipping your bra and he grabs you by the neck to spin you around and kisses you hard. “God, I love,” and there’s a hitch in his voice, “fucking you.”

“It’s mutual,” you murmur, gazing up at him. His hands trail up under your skirt and he moans in approval when he finds your underwear missing too. “I know how to follow instructions,” you say with a grin, and he squeezes your ass.

“I bet you were a great student. You’re already so wet honey, who got you like this?” He maneuvers you so you’re facing the desk and he’s behind you, one hand teasing your folds and the other lifting and cupping your breasts.

“You did. Been thinking about you, this, since you sent that message yesterday. Want it.”

He smiles against the back of your neck and pushes his fingers in, thrusting hard and finding no resistance. “We don’t have a lot of time, so…”

You look over your shoulder at him and grin. “Fuck me.”

He groans and slips his knee in between your legs, pushing your skirt up around your waist. He spreads your legs just a little, enough for him to enter you. “Elbows on the desk, honey, and keep your legs closed.” You look at him again, confused. “Gonna be so much tighter; gonna feel so good for you.” He explains, already proving his point when he starts rocking in and out of you. You moan quietly and he leans over to bite your shoulder.

Carefully, gently, he presses his hand to the small of your back, making your hips arch up. You gasp as he picks up the pace, and he hesitates for a moment. “No it’s okay, just feels good,” you say weakly, pushing back against him, desperate for more.

“Good. Want you to feel wonderful, want to make you feel amazing.” He pauses. “Tell me if I’m being too rough or hurting you, okay?”

You moan and drop your head down onto the desk, rolling your hips back. “Don’t worry about me, I was only worried about the first -oh fuck, yes baby, like that,” you groan stretching your arms out so you can grip the front edge of the desk. He’s gotten the message; you’re not delicate, you don’t need to be babied, he can be rough and fuck you hard and fast.

His hips piston against yours, and you can tell from the soft grunts that his head is tipped back as he thrusts hard. “Fuck Milton, you’re so tight like this,” he whispers and you whimper. You can feel everything with your legs closed around him; the ridge between the tip and his shaft, the vein that traces up the underside of his length, the gentle cleft that yields to his frenulum; all of it. “I don’t think I’m gonna last long,” he admits and you shake your head, agreeing breathlessly. “Do you wanna come?” His voice is low and you moan. He tangles a hand in your hair and lifts your head up while his other hand moves from your hip to your clit, rubbing lightly. You feel yourself start to tighten around his length and you try to keep your moans low. He can tell you’re fighting it and he takes the hand from your hair and slides two fingers into your mouth. “Suck.” His finger on your clit speeds up and you moan hard around his fingers before obediently sucking hard.

You’re so fucking close, and his thrusts are speeding up, so you know he is too. It might be his voice when he murmurs, “come for me, honey.” Or it might be the way his middle finger is flying in circles over your clit. It might be the way his fingers press into your mouth so gently. Or it might be a combination of all of it, because you do, letting out a sharp squeal around his fingers.

You’re coming hard and he groans, rocking against you and finding his own release. His fingers slip from your mouth and you’re breathing hard. He pulls back, and grabs a few tissues. You feel his hand brush over your wetness and you reach back and push his hand away - words are too hard right now. He retracts his hand and you take a deep breath. “Someone said he wanted to see my thighs covered in his cum, if I recall.”

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and you can feel his eyes on you as he cleans himself off with one of the tissues.

“Is it everything you’d hoped for?” You’re exhausted, and he moans his affirmation.

“So sexy honey, seeing you so thoroughly fucked and knowing I did that, I made you come like that, I,” he pauses, “god this sounds bad I’m sorry - but honestly seeing you like this, seeing me all over you, I feel like I’ve claimed you, you’re all mine.”

You shift a little and he leans forward to wipe at your thighs, and you let him this time. “I am all yours, Urie. It doesn’t sound bad, doesn’t bother me at all. Gets me hot when you fuck me, fill me like that, claim me.”

He sighs contentedly, throwing away the tissues and adjusting your skirt. “But you know I’m yours, too, right? This isn’t a one-sided possession. As much as I’m claiming you, I’m giving myself to you.”

You turn and pull him to his feet to kiss him hard. “Thank you,” you whisper against his lips before pulling back.

“Of course.” He kisses your forehead and turns to find your shirt and help you get dressed before walking you to his classroom door. “I’ll pick you up at 8:15?” You nod, running a finger around your mouth to check for lipstick smudges. “You look beautiful. I’ll see you then.”

You’re pretty sure you teach 4th block. Honestly, you’re kind of in a sex coma and can’t really be sure. But you’re pretty confident. They answered your questions and didn’t take advantage of your distracted state at least. When the bell rings, they fly out your door and tell you to enjoy your date. Shit. What else did you tell them?

-||-

He’s right on time, and damn he looks good. He runs his eyes over you appreciatively and takes your hand. “Can I tell you you look beautiful?” You blush a little and nod, so he steps forward and kisses you softly. “You look absolutely breathtaking.” You went with your faux-leather leggings and a white off-the-shoulder top with your hair down.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Urie,” and you kiss him again.

It feels so good to be out with him in public. You haven’t been hiding exactly, but to be out like this, holding hands across the table, teasing his calf with your foot, sharing dessert; it just feels so good.

“Oh my god that was incredible,” you say, arching your back as you get back in his car.

“I’m so glad you liked it and I finally got to take you there. They really are one of my favorite places,” he says, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles.

You nod. “Justifiably so. God, so good.” He grins and you catch his eye. “You should take me home so I can invite you inside.”

His grin widens and he puts the car in drive.

-||-

“And finally, the bedroom.” You’re finishing up a tour of your place and he nods approvingly.

“I could do some dirty stuff to you in that bed,” he says with a smirk and you laugh, kicking off your shoes.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmmmm,” he agrees, turning and you start unbuttoning his shirt.

“It’s my turn baby. Why don’t you get undressed and get in my bed?” You wink and tug at his shirt a little. “I have some filthy thoughts myself, Mr. Urie.”

-||-

You’re changing in the master closet off of your bathroom and you hear him settling onto your bed. “What do you have planned for me, Milton?” He calls and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You take a deep breath and roll your shoulders back. You’ve never done anything like this before but he seems like he’d be willing to let you try, and after all, the man did say to do whatever you wanted with him. Okay.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, drinking you in. You lean in the doorway and just look back at him steadily. “How are you so - my god - fuck,” he stammers and you let a smile play on your lips. You weren’t initially sure about this set; it’s a deep plum lace and while between the two pieces, everything covered, everything is also visible. Just for fun, you added a pair of black thigh highs, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You cross the room to the bed and straddle his chest.

“I’m going to tie you up now,” you inform him, and he inhales sharply. “Is that okay?” You watch his face and he nods eagerly. “Good.” You roll down your stockings and tie his wrists to your headboard. “Too tight?” He tests them, and shakes his head. “Good.” You lean over and kiss him hard before letting your lips slide down his chest and stomach before resting your head on his thighs, rocking back on your calves so you’re pressed flat against him with your ass in the air. “I’m not going to suck you off,” you inform him, and he nods, eyes locked on yours. “But I am going to touch you and get you good and slick so I can ride you.”

“Jesus,” he groans and you smack his thigh lightly.

“My name only tonight.” He nods, biting his lip. You lean to one side and grab the bottle of lube from your nightstand, uncapping it and letting it drizzle down his cock. You wrap your hand around the head and run your hand down his length, coating him. He’s breathing hard and you smile up at him, stroking him faster until the room is filled with the sound of slickness and his soft moans. “Feels good, baby?” He nods and you lick your lips as a drop of pre-cum appears. You don’t even hesitate, taking his length in your mouth, twisting your tongue around him before releasing him with an audible pop. “I lied. I had to taste you.”

“Fuck honey, you can lie to me like that any time.” His eyes are heavy-lidded and he’s gazing up at you so adoringly. “Can I taste you, baby? I wanna taste you.”

You cock your head to the side and consider. “I wasn’t planning on it, but you do such a nice job of eating my pussy, and you didn’t get to earlier in your office, so what the hell.” You move back up his body until you’re kneeling over him and he leans up to press his tongue to you through the lace. “Hang on baby, I'll take these off.” Carefully you drop back, knees on either side of his head and your back against his chest, head by his dick, and you raise your hips and start sliding the lace down your thighs. You get them as far as you can go without sitting back up and he leans forward and catches them in his teeth. “Goddamn,” you whisper, tilting your head up, just watching him. “Look at you, all tied up in my bed with my panties in your teeth, begging to eat me out. So fucking sexy.” He groans and tugs at the lace, eyes desperate. “Don’t rip them, I want you to keep these,” you tell him and sit up, standing slowly so he’s pulling them off of you. Once you’re bare, he lets them fall from his mouth. “Now, where were we?” You smirk. “Oh. I remember.” And you delicately settle back down over his face and stroke his hair. “I’m giving you what you wanted Urie, don’t make me change my mind.” Your tone, despite your words, is soft and he moans against your pussy, tongue flicking out and rubbing. “I know you don’t have your hands right now, but fuck, your mouth is so good on its own,” you murmur, rocking slightly. “Am I hurting you, baby?” He shakes his head, tongue still against you, and you whimper. “That felt good,” you sigh, and his eyes twinkle up at you as he does it again.

“I’m yours, honey,” he groans, and his words are muffled but you get the gist. “Don’t worry about hurting me; do what feels good. Use me.”

Fuck. His tongue is licking, rolling, rubbing, dipping and you’ve got both hands in his hair as you roll your hips in circles against his mouth. His lips, fuck, his lips are so nice and he’s kissing and sucking at you, and even without hands, he’s still the best you’ve ever had. His tongue licks up over you, teasing your clit, and you’re crying out, tugging his hair hard. “Yeah baby, let me hear you.” It’s quiet but you hear him and you lean back and smack his thigh again, a little harder.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you hiss, and his eyes meet yours. He’s so fucking turned on right now and he starts nodding against you, increasing the friction between his tongue and your clit and you’re screaming your climax, rocking against him hard. Still trembling and pulsing with your first, you slip down his body and, knowing you won’t make it long, reach between you to line his cock up. Once you feel him pressing into you, you drop down. Between the slickness of the lube and your orgasm coursing through you and the sharp thrust of his hips, you’re coming again and you’ve lost the ability to speak, lips parted soundlessly.

“So fucking sexy,” he moans, watching you tremble and shake with your second of the night. Your eyes snap open and find his.

“I want one more,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him, relishing the taste of yourself on his lips. Still bent over, you start rolling your hips, fucking yourself back on his dick. He’s groaning into your mouth, tongue twisting with yours, sucking on your lower lip, tugging at it with his teeth gently.

“You can have as many as you want baby.” His arm twitches a little and you meet his eyes, concern showing. “No, I’m okay. Just wanted to touch you,” he whispers, nuzzling your neck.

“Soon,” you promise, feeling yourself approaching a third. He bites his lip, and tentatively moves his hips, eyeing you cautiously. “You can fuck me baby; just because I’m on top doesn’t mean you can’t fuck my tight,” you kiss his lips, “hot,” his jawline, “so fucking wet,” and his neck, “cunt.”

“Sweet Christ,” and he immediately apologizes and you decide to let it go, feeling him throb inside you at your words. “Thank you, honey,” and he knows you’ve shown mercy, his eyes so adoring. He starts rocking his hips up into you steadily as you grind down onto him, clit rubbing against his pelvis.

“Gonna come,” you gasp, and he nods. “Fuck, right there,” you hiss and he repeats the same rocking motion with a second thrust for emphasis. This one isn’t as hard; it’s more a slow spreading of warmth and trembling versus an electrical shock and shaking.

“So beautiful,” he groans, eyes wide.

“Your turn. Come in me.”

He’s been waiting and at your words, you feel his stomach tense as he hits his peak. He’s babbling his gratitude, telling you how much he loves your pussy, how good you feel.

When he’s done, hips stilling and chest rising and falling sharply, you raise up off of him and lean forward to untie him. Once his arms are free, he tangles them around you and pulls you down to him. “You’re incredible,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“That wasn’t too far?” You look concerned and he shakes his head enthusiastically.

“So sexy, seeing and hearing you like that. I told you, honey, as much as you’re mine, I’m yours. And that was amazing.”

You smile, snuggling into his chest. “It was kinda fun.” You yawn and he tightens his arms around you. “I’m gonna go to sleep now,” you inform him, and he laughs softly.

“Okay baby. Sleep well.” The last thing you feel before succumbing to sleep entirely is his lips against the top of your head.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual content, dirty talk, some spanking. 
> 
> Songs referenced are:  
> -Demi Lovato's "Give Your Heart A Break," I used the Anthem Lights acoustic cover for writing.  
> -Go Radio's "Goodnight Moon." 
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

Your alarm goes off and you shoot out a hand to mute it. You aren’t going to fall back asleep; you just don’t want to wake him. Carefully, you slip out of bed and pad into the kitchen, turning the stove on and opening the fridge.

You’re almost finished, you’ve moved the pan from the hot surface to a cool one and turned off the stove, when you hear him coming down the hall and you turn, inhaling sharply. He’s slipped into his jeans but has left them unbuttoned and unzipped, and that’s all he’s got on. His hair is mussed and he probably wants to shave, but he looks so sexy right now. He blinks a few times so his eyes focus on you.

“Holy shit baby, what are you wearing?” He reaches out for you and you step into his arms. You’ve slipped your panties back on and grabbed his button-down off the floor and have the middle button closed. He runs his hand down your side appreciatively. “I’m guessing this is why I couldn’t find my shirt,” he muses, and you nod. He fingers the one closed button, looking over you. “And no bra and those panties I got off you with my mouth, hmmm?” You nod again and he kisses you hard. “So sexy.” You lean into the kiss and he slips a hand inside your - his? - shirt to thumb over your nipple. When you finally break, he blinks slowly. “Something smells really good.”

You grin, and turn back to the stove, sliding the pan’s contents to a large plate and grabbing a fork and knife. You pass it to him and he groans. “Please tell me this is-“

You cut him off with a smile. “Bacon-stuffed French toast? Yes.” His whole face lights up. “Come on Urie, back to bed.” You set off for your room and he trails after you.

“Aren’t you worried about syrup and stuff in your bed?”

You shrug. “I’ve gotta do laundry anyway.” You laugh a little to yourself. “Last time one of us said that I ended up making you come in your pants.”

He sneaks a bite of French toast and moans. “I wouldn’t rule out a repeat performance, honey. This is amazing.” You smile and you both settle back into bed, his arm around your shoulders. The plate in his lap, he stabs a piece and feeds it to you. You spend the next 30 minutes feeding each other, whispering and giggling between syrupy embraces.

At one point, when the plate is technically cleared, he leans over to check the clock and looks at you longingly. “We’ve got a few minutes before we have to shower,” you tell him and he rolls over on top of you, unbuttons the single button, and, after dragging his index finger through the plate, coats both of your nipples and drags a sugary path down your stomach.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” His mouth is on your neck and he slots a thigh in between yours, knowing what you want. As his tongue slides down your neck and chest, you grind wantonly on his upper thigh, gasping as his lips close around your nipple, sucking hard. “Yeah, baby, make yourself feel good,” he whispers, switching to your other sticky breast and pushing his thigh up against you.

Your room is silent except for the suckling sounds of his mouth and your soft moans of pleasure. Regretfully, his thigh leaves your grasp when he moves to lick over your stomach and you cry out in frustration, hips still moving, searching. “Don’t worry honey, we’ll finish this in the shower.”

And finish you do. He backs you up against the wall and drops to his knees (you’re proud of yourself for getting that foam bath mat), tongue tracing between your folds and flicking out over your clit. You cry out and he looks up at you, the question in his eyes. “Fuck, Brendon, fingers,” you whine and he winks before sliding two fingers into you roughly while his other hand grips his leaking cock and starts stroking hard. You look down at him, on his knees, pleasing both of you, eyes shut in concentration and bliss, and you can’t help it; your climax rocks through you and you come hard on his fingers and tongue.

With a groan, he gives one last thrust through his fist before his own orgasm is spurting over and dripping down his fingers. “Fuck baby, hope that wasn’t too fast,” he whispers, kissing your thigh and you shake your head.

“It was perfect.”

By the time you’re both cleaned up and out of the shower, it’s only 5:30. “Fuck, if waking up early means I get to start my day like that, count me in,” he mumbles as he kisses your cheek.

As you’re getting in your separate cars so he can go home and change, a roar of thunder rips through the air and the sky opens up. He texts you - “looks like we’re not going to have band outside today.”

-||-

Brendon’s POV

The storm has been raging all day but the thunder has nothing on your drumline. The kids are exhausted from practice yesterday - it was extraordinarily hot for September, and they worked hard, so you decide to take a break from show music.

“Alright guys, grab a seat real quick.” They settle into their chairs and look at you expectantly. “I want to work on sight reading, so I’m going to pass out some unmarked music to each section. The parts are labeled; the pieces are not. It’s your job to work as a section and figure out a) what piece this is, and b) how to make it sound right.” You pause. “And yes, there is a prize for the section that can get their part right the fastest.” You hold up your hands to ward off questions. “All prizes revealed after winners are selected.”

The kids waste no time dividing the room into domains, huddling with their sections, fingers flying silently over instruments and eyes squinting in concentration. Even Marissa has joined her original section, the trombones, and is studying the piece. Everyone is deeply invested, except Emily, who is sitting with her flute across her lap staring into space. You catch her eye. “You okay?” You mouth, and she shakes her head and bursts into tears. Fuck. “Come on,” You gesture and she stands up, setting the instrument down and crossing the room. You open the door and gesture for her to step out. You follow and, leaving the door cracked, sit on the floor. “What’s up?”

She sighs, crossing her arms and sitting down too. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you’re upset. You’re allowed to be upset.”

She sniffles and looks up at you. “This is embarrassing.” You look at her steadily. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, so David and I have been texting a lot and I thought he liked me because he sat with me on the bus coming home from Invitationals and Friday he bought me a cookie at lunch and NOW -“ she cuts herself off with a tight sob, “he’s ignoring me and sitting with - with - with JASMINE.” She looks at you desperately, tears streaming. “I told you it was stupid.”

You shake your head. “And I told you it isn’t. You like the guy and you thought it was mutual and now he’s giving you mixed signals. Who wouldn’t be upset?” She sniffles and shrugs. “Emily, listen to me.” She looks up at you, eyes watery. “I’m not gonna say anything bad about him because first, he’s my student too, and second, you don’t need my thoughts and feelings in your head. So listen. You are a smart, talented, beautiful young lady. If he doesn’t see that, that’s his loss. Honestly. I know it hurts now; I had my fair share of emotional distress in high school, but I promise, you’re going to be just fine. I survived, and I’m not half as great as you.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

You shake your head. “I’m not. I got out of high school with a 2.5 GPA and it was music that got me through. I had like 2 close friends I hung out with regularly.” She frowns a little, considering. “Seriously. You’ll be great. Now, you can call David out, just please not during class, or you can let it go, but either way, you’re gonna go back in there and be fine. Don’t let him get to you. And remember,” you pause to make sure she’s listening. “High school boys are dumb. They’ll catch up to you, maturity-wise, in about 4 years. Tolerate them for now, but focus on what’s important. Graduating and college. Yes?” She nods with some confidence and you pat her on the shoulder. “Good. You ready to go back inside?” She nods and you both stand.

Before you go back inside, she stops you. “Thank you, Mr. Urie. You’re a good listener. Ms. Milton’s lucky.”

You stop and look at her. “What do you mean by that?” Your voice is cautious. She laughs a little.

“We all think you’re together. I mean, we can’t prove anything but...I don’t know. We all think you should be if you’re not already.” You think about this.

“Who is ‘we,’ when you say ‘we all think’?”

She shrugs. “Everyone in band. Except some of the freshman girls but,” she gives you a knowing look. “You know how they are.”

You can’t help it, you start laughing. “I really don’t.”

She looks at you with wide eyes. “Mr. Urie, they’re like in love with you.”

You snort. “Yeah, okay Emily.”

“They are! But yeah the rest of us think you’d be super cute together.”

You grin. “Let’s go back inside.”

“Why are you grinning? We know you guys had dinner together last night. Why are you grinning?? Did something happen? Did you kiss? Ohhhhh I bet y’all kissed.”

If she only knew. Your mind wanders back to the night before, being tied down in her bed, licking over her - no. Focus. Not the time. You walk back into the room where the trumpets are getting close to figuring out the melody and the drummers have given up and are throwing their sticks at the ceiling.

“You guys look done. Are you done?”

You built Emily’s confidence up too much. She looks around the room. “Show of hands, who thinks Mr. Urie should ask Ms. Milton out again?” You protest and she gives you a look. “I’m proving my point.”

You groan and are surprised when almost every hand in the room shoots up, except for, as Emily essentially predicted, a cluster of freshman girls in the flute and clarinet sections. She looks around the room again. “Why?”

Josh raises his hand. “Because when he’s with her, he lets us go home early.”

Marissa rolls her eyes. “Great leadership attitude Josh,” she teases. “But really, because she’s nice and pretty and you always look happy when someone talks about her - like right now.”

Emily has uncapped an expo marker and is listing people’s reasons on the board behind you. “...looks...happy. Okay, what else?”

You groan. “Really guys, this is how you all want to spend class time?”

The drumline gives a resounding “yes,” and you give up.

“Alright, I give. Convince me why I should date this woman.” The class is arguing loudly now about ranking her qualities and you wander back into your office to shoot her a quick text. “Come to the band room after school. I’ve got something to show you.”

She replies immediately. “Is it your dick? Kidding. Kind of. I’ll be there.”

You walk back out and are stunned. Marissa has joined Emily and together they’ve almost filled the board with the class suggestions that are being yelled out at random. “Wow guys, you’re really putting in work on this,” you laugh and they nod enthusiastically.

“We really like her.” I really like her too. “What would you do if we brought her down here to see this list?” Emily looks a little smug.

“Don’t do that.”

Marissa folds her arms and makes a frustrated sound. “Fine.”

The bell is about to ring and they start packing up when Emily grabs the eraser. “No, don’t.” You stop her and she turns to you with a grin.

“You’re gonna bring her down here yourself, aren’t you?”

“No. Maybe.” She claps her hands ecstatically and grabs her bag and flute case, bolting from the room.

“Aghhh! Yay! Good luck!” She throws open the door and comes up short. “Oh hi, Ms. Milton! I was just leaving. Bye!!” You hear Emily’s feet flying down the hall and Y/n laughing.

“What was all of that ab- what is this?” She stops, staring at the board. You hold out your hand and she crosses the room to take it. You pull her into your arms, her back against your chest, and kiss her cheek.

“These are all the reasons my students think we should be together.” She gasps a little and steps forward to read them. You watch her pace the board and she turns to you, eyes brimming with tears.

“This is incredible,” she whispers, hugging you tightly.

“You’re incredible. And they see it. They see how wonderful you are and how happy you make me.”

She stands on her toes to kiss you and you wrap your arms around her, holding her tightly. “You are wonderful,” she whispers into your neck, “and you make me so happy too.”

You smile, breathing in the scent of her hair. “I’m going to take you home now,” you tell her and she nods, slipping her hand into yours and letting you lead her out the door.

-||-

You’re curled up on the couch, dinner plates on the coffee table, her head in your lap. Your hands are stroking her hair and she lets out a soft sigh before sitting up and flipping around so she’s facing you. “My ex and I were together for five years,” she tells you, taking your hands. “He was the first guy I dated who treated me well and was nice and I thought that meant he was the one. We had a lot of issues but I brushed them aside because he was nice to me.” She looks up at you, voice shaking. You pull at her hands lightly and she crawls back to your lap, resting her head on your chest. “He was gone a lot of the time, and he didn’t put our relationship first. I spent a lot of time alone, defending him to my friends and even to myself. He didn’t spend time with me, he was rude to my friends, and he told me I was stupid for teaching. He’s the one who ended it. He told me I was emotionally manipulative, that he felt trapped by me and stifled and crowded. He had wanted to leave for a long time but didn’t know how to tell me so he just went through all of the motions until one day he just snapped and started screaming at me. It was over after that; I moved out and after maybe 2 weeks, he wanted to get back together. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t be with someone who had said those terrible things to me. I thought I was okay when I moved from Austin, but like I said, he started showing up and hanging around and I told him I couldn’t, I just couldn’t and wouldn’t be with him. He called me horrible things, a tease, a slut, a manipulative bitch - and I just couldn’t stay. So I ran again.” Your grip around her tightens; you’re furious. “So yeah. That’s my ex, and that’s why I’m, deep down, weird about relationships and commitments. I’m sorry, I just - seeing that board made me realize how strongly I feel about you and you deserve to know about the last guy who had an impact on me.”

You take a deep breath and kiss the top of her head. “First of all, I’m proud of you for leaving; for not going back to him. I know that was hard, especially after he felt like a safe person, the first safe person, for so long. Second, you know you’re none of those things, right? You’re not any of those horrible things he called you. He’s insecure and afraid of his own flaws so he’s projecting onto you. Finally, you’re not weird about relationships or commitments. Not as far as I can see. You openly refer to yourself as my girlfriend and we’ve spent many nights together, each of them magical by the way. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect, okay?” She lifts her head and you kiss her softly. “You’re perfect and you’re safe and I’m not going to hurt you. You mean so much to me. I hope you believe that.”

She nods. “I do believe it.” She sniffles a little and hugs you tightly. “Can we watch a movie and have a drink?”

You laugh, kissing her forehead. “Of course baby. I’ll grab the wine if you want to pick a movie.” You come back into the room, two bottles in your hands and glasses hooked into your fingers, a bar of dark chocolate wedged between the glasses. She looks at you in surprise and you laugh a little. “No, we’re not drinking both of these - unless you want to. I just didn’t know what you were feeling.”

“I think the red. Is Dirty Dancing okay?”

You nod. “Absolutely.” And with that, you uncork the wine, pour your glasses, and settle back into place, breaking off bits of chocolate and passing them forward for her to pluck from your fingers with her teeth.

The movie ends and she’s drowsy in your arms, but she stirs when the credits roll. “Mmmmm. I feel much better,” she purrs, stretching and arching her back. “You should take me to bed.”

“Yeah?” You nuzzle the spot behind her ear and she melts back into your arms, nodding and turning her head to kiss your neck. “You sure?” You whisper and she nods again, her lips ghosting over your skin. “Okay then.” You both stand and she willfully allows you to scoop her up and head for the stairs.

She’s clinging to you, and you’re halfway up the stairs when she starts kissing you fiercely, moaning and whimpering against your lips and tugging at your hair. Suddenly she pulls back and looks at you. “You have an office here too, don’t you?” And when you nod, she grins. “Let’s go in there.” You can’t say no to her; you’re nudging open the door and she gasps, looking at you. “I didn’t know you played piano!” You shrug modestly.

“A little.”

“A little! This is a baby grand! No one who plays a little has a baby grand. You play a lot. Play for me?” Her face is flushed and her lips are stained from the wine and you look at her, captivated.

“Yeah, okay.” You find the keys and start, eyes focused on your fingers as you sing softly. “The day I first met you, you told me you never fall in love,” she elbows you playfully, and you wink. “But now that I get you, I know fear is what it really was. Now here we are, so close, yet so far...Haven't I passed the test?” Her head is resting on your shoulder, and you pause, finding her eyes. “When will you realize, baby, I'm not like the rest?” Your hands still as she kisses you softly. You whisper against her lips, “don't wanna break your heart, I wanna give your heart a break,” and she moans into your mouth and crawls into your lap, kissing you harder now and cutting the song short. Your lips part as her tongue slips into your mouth and you grab her hips and pull her closer against you. “Should I take you to bed, honey?”

“No. We should stay right here.”

“Do you want me to keep playing?” Your hands curve over the keys, waiting.

“Only if it’s your tongue playing with my clit.”

Sweet Jesus.

You grab her hips and pull her into your lap, kissing her hard while her hands work between you to unzip your pants. She’s already shed her skirt during the movie and you’re pulling her top off now, so once your pants and boxers are down on the ground, you shove her underwear to the side and slide a finger in. She rocks back, hitting the keys and you both jump a little at the cacophony of sound. “More,” she insists, and you add two more fingers, getting harder at her guttural moan. “Fuck, baby, yes.”

You lift her up onto the top of the piano and, ignoring the sound of keys clashing under her calves, rock your hand against her, using your palm to rub her clit. Her eyes flutter shut and she lets her head fall back, the soft moans escaping going right to your dick. “Can I fuck you, honey? Wanna be in you, wanna feel you,” you whisper, watching her. She nods eagerly, rolling her hips forward and grasping for your erection. She runs her thumb over your head and you inhale sharply, groaning when she strokes you gently.

“Love your cock,” she whispers, meeting your eyes. “So velvety smooth and warm...fuck, Brendon, want you in me.” Neither of you can stifle the broken moans when you’re fully sheathed in her and when you start moving, she whimpers, clawing at your back and wrapping her legs around your hips. “Been thinking about this all day, you making love to me,” she moans and your hands tighten around her hips at her words. “God,” she continues, grinding down against you, “you make me fucking crazy. I’m so easy for you, I fucking love it.”

You groan, tangling a hand in her hair and pulling her mouth to yours. “Fucking love hearing you talk,” you whisper, thrusting hard before biting and sucking at her collarbone.

“Yeah? You like hearing how much I love getting fucked by you? God, baby, I’m pretty much ready for you all the time. You get me so fucking wet,” she moans and you pull her down against you so she can rub against you. “And I love when you come in me, filling me up and fucking me through it til you’ve gotten your cum all over my pussy and thighs.”

“Jesus Y/n, you’re bad,” you moan, feeling your dick twitch inside her.

“I’m bad behavior, but I do it in the best way,” she smirks, moaning when you squeeze her ass in both hands.

“Did you just quote Fall Out Boy?” Your hips still and you look at her incredulously.

She laughs. “Did you mind?”

“No. Turn over.” You pull out of her and she cries out at the loss but obeys, rolling onto her stomach and spreading her legs once her feet hit the floor, chest still pressed to the top of your piano. “Atta girl,” you laugh and smack her ass once.

“Fuck, do that again,” she pleads, arching her back and offering herself to you. Your hand comes down on her hard and you rock back into her at her sharp squeal and fuck, she is so wet for you. “Fucking love that,” she groans, laying her head down on the smooth surface. “Didn’t know I was into that but damn if I don’t love everything you do to my body.”

You laugh, curving your fingers around her hips and pulling her up so you’re filling her at an angle. “You want more?”

She grins up at you, rocking her hips back and moaning quietly. “When I deserve more.”

“Jesus,” you groan, reaching around to rub her clit. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come,” you hiss, quickening your fingers.

She lets out a breathy moan, squeezing around you. “Come in me baby, fill me up til it’s dripping out of my pussy and getting all over both of us while you fuck me hard and I’m screaming your name.”

Her words send you over the edge and as soon as she feels you release, she clamps down on your length with a shrill cry. You grab her hair and pull her head back so you can bite her neck; her cry must jump a full fucking octave, and she’s coming around you.

You slide out of her, and her legs are shaking so you carefully lower you both to the floor. She crawls on top of you, spreading herself across your lower stomach and breathes hard. “Oh my god,” she moans and you laugh, trying to steady your breathing. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” You agree, closing your eyes for just a moment. She stands up and your eyes open. She’s standing a little unsteadily and you trail a hand up her calf. “You good there, Bambi?”

She laughs and nods. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.” You sit up and stretch. “Gonna join me?” She extends a hand and you nod, rising.

You finish in the shower before her and kiss her lightly. “Take your time in here, I’m gonna go clean up.” She nods, reaching for the conditioner and starts working it through her hair.

-||-

You’re back at the piano, playing when you hear the water turn off. A few minutes later, she’s slipping into the room in nothing but one of your shirts and sliding onto the bench next to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Whatcha playing now?” She whispers, running her fingers up and down your arm.

You turn to her and smile, pressing a kiss to her lips. “A song that makes me think of you.”

You pull her in between your legs and put your right hand on the keys, before placing her right hand over yours, curving her fingers so they’ll move with yours. You do the same with the left and she repeats the motion. Slowly, you start to play, singing quietly in her ear.

“And don't go to bed yet, love, I think it's too early, And we just need a little time to ourselves. If my wall clock tells me that it's four In the morning, I'll give it hell. 'Cause I've been trying way too long, to try and be the perfect song, when our hearts are heavy burdens, we shouldn't have to bear alone.

So goodnight moon, and goodnight you, when you're all that I think about, all that I dream about... How'd I ever breathe without a goodnight kiss from goodnight you? The kind of hope they all talk about, the kind of feeling we sing about, sit in our bedroom and read aloud, like a passage from goodnight moon…”

You hear her sniffles and watch as a few of her tears hit the keys. “Oh, honey, come here.” You pull your hands back and hug her tightly. “You okay?”

She wipes at her eyes and looks back at you. “I’ve just never felt this way about anyone before.”

“Come here.” You stand and pull her into your arms, tapping at your phone with one hand.

The music fills the room and you hold her to you as you dance slowly, one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other grasping her hand. She rests her head on your shoulder and you start to sing again, stroking her back.

“Then there you were, and I saw my Juliet come graceful down the stairs. It's hard to miss, the way her eyes light up the room, and steal the air. Just feel her lips, lock on to every breath I take; can't breathe it in. Do you feel us falling? 'Cause I feel us falling…”

She looks up at you, eyes shining and you lean down to kiss her lightly. “I love you. I am not falling in love with you, I am in love with you,” you murmur, and she whispers it back, melting into your arms. Paradise.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for requests and dirty talk <3

The sunlight filters in and you blink, stirring and stretching a little. His arms are around your waist and you’re chest to chest, one of your legs slung over his so he can press against you. His eyes flutter open and he smiles sleepily when he sees you. You reach out to caress his cheek. “Good morning,” you whisper, and he repeats it back. “Was last night real?”

He nods, squeezing you tightly. “I love you.”

You think you’re going to melt right in his arms. “I love you too.” His lips move over your neck and he rubs against you gently; not pushing in but letting your folds envelope him. “Feels good,” you whisper, and he moves a bit faster, the head of his cock brushing over and pushing against your clit. You start pushing back against him, relishing the sounds of your bodies together, and he groans when you lean forward and catch his earlobe in your teeth, rolling and sucking.

He shudders happily and you switch from rocking against him to firm circles. “I love you,” he murmurs and you whimper, grinding down harder. “I love you and I love the sounds you make and I love the way your eyelashes flutter when you’re about to come,” he elaborates, hands moving to your hips. You free his earlobe and capture his lips, crushing him to you. You’re so close, you can feel yourself right on the edge, and -

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” You can hear the desperation in your voice as he pulls away and he grins at you.

“It’s 6:45; we gotta get up, my love.”

“No, no no, please I just need five more minutes,” you beg and he shakes his head. “Brendon, baby, please god, I’m right there; please, get back here and let me come.”

“If I don’t get up right now, we won’t get breakfast,” he warns, settling on the edge of the bed.

“Fuck breakfast,” you hiss and grab him by the shoulders. He willingly lets you crawl over him and start rocking on him again, and you can tell he’s trying not to react. “You want it too, I can tell,” you whisper, spreading your thighs further to envelope him a little more.

“Fuck honey, of course I want it,” he gasps, giving in and bucking up against you.

“Then don’t tease,” you chide, fingers gripping his forearms. His dick flexes under you and you moan. “God, I’m gonna,”

“Come for me,” he insists, pushing two fingers up against your pelvis, and it’s all you need; you break down, shaking and trembling, soft cries falling from your lips. He groans once and you feel him, warm, spilling across your inner thighs. “Come here Y/n,” and he slides you off of him and holds to you his chest, your shared wetness between you. “You okay?”

You nod, still trembling all over, burying your head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Felt really good,” you whisper, finally going lax against him. He nods, kissing your temple.

“It did. Tell you what, if we take a super quick shower, I can probably still make waffles.” You pull back and your eyes light up; he laughs affectionately and releases you so you can both stand up and head to the shower.

-||-

You’ve started leaving wardrobe basics in his closet for mornings like this so neither of you has to rush home. Once you’re out of the shower, he slings a towel low on his hips and goes to start the waffles. You apply the bare minimum of makeup and get dressed, and by the time you’re downstairs and ready, the waffles have 4 minutes left, which is all the time he needs to dart upstairs and get dressed.

Just as the waffle iron beeps, he comes back into the kitchen, adjusting his tie. You grab him by the edge of it and pull him in, moaning into his mouth when his hands find your ass and pull you firmly against him. “Waffles are ready, honey,” he mumbles against your mouth and you nod, pulling back regretfully.

You both eat quickly and he cleans the waffle iron while you load the dishwasher; once done in the kitchen, you head for his car. “Should we be more careful about driving to school together?” You ask this in the car and his hand squeezes your thigh lightly.

“Maybe. But we should also probably tell Frank we’re together before someone else does,” he admits and you nod. “Tomorrow’s a teacher work-day, do you want to talk to him then?”

“Yeah, we probably should.”

He pulls into his space outside the band room and parks. “It’s gonna be okay, you know that right?” You nod reluctantly. “We don’t have to worry about being up early tomorrow, let’s go out tonight and celebrate,” he suggests, hand finding yours.

“Celebrate being in love?” Your voice is only slightly teasing and he nods.

“I know a great place in Southbridge,” he offers, getting out of the car and crossing to your door (you’ve stopped protesting by now and just let him open doors for you), holding out his hand for you to take. “If you wanted to do something a little different.”

You smile up at him and stand, walking hand in hand into the bandroom. “Just tell me what to wear,” you laugh, and he closes the outer door behind you and kisses you hard.

-||-

It’s the end of the day and he’s driven you both back to your apartment so you can get dressed for the evening. He’s sprawled on your bed while you go through your closet, pulling things at random.

“Oooh, stop go back!” He exclaims, hopping off the bed and grabbing a black leather-looking pencil dress off the floor. He holds it out to you. “Let me see this on,” he requests and you shrug, pulling your top off and kicking your skirt off, taking the dress from his hand and wiggling into it. The deep square neckline with the center notch does flattering things to your cleavage while the rest of the dress contours to your body until it stops above your knee and he zips the dress for you, eyes wide. “This. You’re wearing this.” You laugh a little and turn to him. His eyes move down your body and he nods. “Yeah, this.”

“What shoes?” You gesture behind you to the half-wall of shoes and he studies them before plucking a simple pair of black pumps off the shelf.

“Are these comfortable? Can you dance in these?” When you nod, he holds them out. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he sighs, pulling you close. You smile into his kiss and he runs a hand through your hair before moving his lips down your neck. “Grab something for school tomorrow; I won’t be letting you out of my bed until the very last moment.”

“Yessir,” you offer with a wink and turn back to grab additional clothes.

The car ride is over way too quickly; he’s got his hand on your thigh and is steadily sliding it up, but what makes it is the music. The weather is gorgeous so he’s got all of the windows down and you’re both yelling the lyrics to basically every song that comes up on his driving playlist. You’ve never heard Whitney sung so well. When he parks, you’re both laughing so hard you’ve got tears streaming down your face and he leans over to wipe them away with the pad of his thumb. “You ready?” He grins, and when you nod, he gets out of the car and crosses to you. “I’m not sure what band is playing tonight, so if you hate it, we can stay in the bar, since their DJ usually just plays whatever is popular.”

You shake your head and slip your hand into his. “I just like being with you.” The bar is also a performance space in the back and an art gallery off to the side, so it’s loud and crowded; his arm curves around your waist and holds you close. He leans down and asks if you want anything to drink, and when you shrug, he grins and leads to you to the bar.

“They have something I think you’ll like,” he says with a mysterious smile. Hand still on your hip, he leans across the bar to order and a few minutes later, he’s handing you a gorgeous wide-mouthed champagne glass filled with a pale yellow liquid, a thin layer of foam on top with a raspberry resting on it. “The Shakespeare,” he says with a smile and you take a cautious sip.

Your eyes go wide. “That’s incredible.” You sniff at it cautiously and can’t help but giggle. You look up at him. “It smells like fancy soap, but it doesn’t taste like it.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s good, isn’t it? Absolut, egg white, citrus, rose water, and orange blossom water.” You make a small contented noise and take another sip as the bartender passes his bourbon over the counter. “Shall we?”

You nod and let him lead you through the space. His arm is still around you protectively and you lean into his grasp as you make your way through the space and down a hall. You feel safe and wanted and loved, all from his touch. He looks down at you momentarily and the look on his face takes your breath away. “I love you,” you tell him earnestly and he smiles softly.

“I love you. I don’t ever want to stop saying it.” You’ve stopped in front of the small stage where a band is setting up. “Do you want to hang out and see what they sound like?” You nod and the two of you find a table in a back corner where he can lean against a wall and hold you against him, your back against his chest. His fingers are moving in small circles over your thigh and you sigh happily, taking another sip of your drink. It’s strong and you can already feel it going to your head. The band is warming up and you find yourself moving against him subtly. He presses his fingers into your thigh and kisses the top of your head. “Feels good honey, but I hope you’re not planning on walking away any time soon.” You wiggle back against him more and gasp in mock surprise.

“Mr. Urie,” you tease, and he squeezes your thigh. “I like having your hands all over me,” you whisper and he squeezes harder, relishing your quiet moan. When the band starts up, you give a happy gasp. “I love this song!” You declare and he leans forward to kiss your cheek and offer a hand. You take it happily and he leads you to the dance floor.

“I didn’t take you as a Jimmy Buffett fan,” he remarks and you smile, pressing yourself flush against him. “But this is a good song.”

You giggle, letting your hips rock with the singer’s words as you sing along quietly. “Apocalyp, apocalyp, apocalypso.” He places a hand on the small of your back and keeps you against him. “Undisturbed, the dancers flow,” you murmur, eyes locked on his as he pivots the both of you slowly.

“I think this is such a romantic song,” he comments, swaying with you. “The world could be coming to an end, literally the apocalypse, and I’d want to be here, with you, dancing like this.” You nod, and he spins you so your back is to his chest. You snake an arm back to tangle around his neck while both of his hands close over your hips. Your free hand laces with his and you arch your back, pressing into him, grinding subtly, slowly. “I feel what you’re doing, Milton,” he comments, and you grin, twisting to look at him.

“Good.”

The band closes Apocalypso and moves on to their next one and you both make a happy noise at the opening chords and he laughs lightly under his breath. “How fitting,” he comments, rolling his hips back against you. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take; I want you, and I ain’t gonna have it any other way…ain’t no time for talkin, show me what you got, we’re gonna get this bed a-rockin, and it ain’t gonna stop.” You giggle, fingers twisting in his hair at the base of his neck. “You’re getting locked up, overnight.”

The dance floor is more crowded now and you’re pretty sure no one can see how his fingers are moving up the inside of your dress.

“Tell me how you want it…tell me how you want it…no wait, you better show me.” His words are hot in your ear and you feel the pool of desire forming. He must feel you getting wet when he presses two fingers against your core through your underwear. “Come on.” He slips his hand down and wraps it around your wrist, leading you back to the bar. The soundproofing in this building is good; the bar has something loud and bass-heavy blaring but you couldn’t hear it at all back in the performance space. The crowd is denser here and when a group of guys cut across without looking, they break Brendon’s grip on your wrist. You yelp, and one stranger turns to you with interest.

“Well hello there,” he slurs, and you freeze. It’s not him, it’s not. But he looks like him. And he sounds like him. You stare at him wide-eyed. No, the eyes are wrong and the nose is slightly too wide. But the resemblance is striking. The rest of the group has stopped too. He must take your petrified stare for interest and starts to say something else, reaching out to touch you. You can’t breathe and the encounter is probably only ten seconds before Brendon has elbowed his way back to you and pulls you to him.

“She’s not interested,” he says to the stranger coolly, giving him a hard stare.

The guy looks from Brendon to you and laughs. “I’d let her decide for herself. She can’t take her eyes off of me.”

You want to vomit and you shrink back into Brendon’s side, eyes still on him. “Fuck off,” you spit, and Brendon can’t help but laugh approvingly.

“You heard the lady. Fuck off,” he advises, and with his arm more securely around you, he leads you away. You end up down a smaller, darker hallway off the bar and he comes to a halt and looks at you worriedly. “You okay, honey?” You nod and he sighs. “I’m sorry love, I should have-“

“Don’t apologize. I’m fine. You were right there and you didn’t let anything happen to me.” He frowns and hugs you close to him. “He just looked a lot like. Well. Him. But I’m okay. I am. Or I will be.” You smile up at him encouragingly. “Why were we coming back here originally?” You let your hand wander down between you, palming him and stroking, wanting him hard for you again.

“You sure?” He looks at you cautiously and you nod.

“Being with you makes me feel safe. Wanted. Protected. Brendon,” you press closer, letting your lips linger on his jaw. “Make me feel safe.”

You turn to the women’s room door and open it. It’s a dimly lit one-seater and doesn’t give off bathroom vibes, so you grab him by the collar and pull him in after you.

He groans and kisses you hard. “We can go home honey, we don’t have to-“

“I need you now. I can’t wait that long.” He groans again and kicks the door shut, locks it, and kisses you deeply. You lean forward and unbutton his pants while he pulls your dress up to your waist and tugs your underwear down.

“You’re sure?” He’s breathing hard, stroking himself, eyes heavy with lust.

“Fuck me.”

He lifts you up onto the sink and you spread your legs. He groans and runs his hand over you, gathering your wetness to slick over his length before sliding into you. You both cry out at the sensation and he starts rocking against you. “Harder,” you insist, twisting your legs together behind him and pulling him into you.

He’s got a hand on the mirror behind your head and the other is gripping your thigh hard; you’re pretty sure he’s going to leave bruises but you don’t even care. This is the roughest he’s ever been with you, and you love it.

“Get down, turn over.” He rasps, and you slip off of the edge of the sink and lean over, both hands against the mirror. You shriek in pleasure when he thrusts back into you, the hand on your thigh tightening while his other moves to rub your clit roughly. “God, honey, look at us,” he groans, moving his hand from your thigh to your hair and lifting your head to watch you both in the mirror. “Look at how sexy you are, begging for it, begging for me.”

You whimper, spreading your legs wider and and sinking down onto him further, resting one forearm on the sink while the other braced yourself against the mirror. “Feels so fucking good, Brendon, feels so good,” you gasp, and he nods, bending over to bite your neck.

“So fucking sexy, hearing you tell that guy to fuck off; you know you’re mine,” his words send shivers through you and you moan, nodding.

“Yours, fuck, Brendon, I’m yours,” you agree, rocking back against his thrusts, feeling yourself start to come undone. “Oh god, Brendon, baby, I’m gonna - just a bit more- fuck, please-“

He pulls your hair hard while his fingers gently apply pressure to your clit and you’re screaming, knees giving out from under you. He acts fast, releasing your hair and tightening an arm around your waist to keep you upright as he keeps thrusting roughly.

“Fuck yes baby, come for me, love feeling you come on me,” he groans as you tighten around him. “God, I’m gonna -“ and he’s coming, hand slipping from your clit to your thigh as he bucks his hips forward one last time. You whimper happily, squeezing down and pushing back, and he leans forward to kiss the back of your neck. When you’ve both stopped shaking, he pulls back, reaching around you for a paper towel. “Holy fuck,” he whispers, cleaning himself off and zipping his pants back up before repeating with a new towel and your thighs.

“Holy fuck,” you agree, sliding your dress back down. You turn to face him and he pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. You melt into his embrace, head still spinning a little. “Let’s go home and do that again,” you suggest, and he laughs, kissing you again.

“You’re insatiable,” he comments, checking you both over before unlocking the bathroom door and stepping out.

“You like it,” you retort, taking his hand.


	13. Alternate title; Hush Now, Baby (dom!B)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by a few requests:
> 
> Request: bomb ass imagine with full blown dirty talk and Brendon being a full blown dom while calling the reader darling and sweetheart, ugh can you imagine it? breaking hearts while turning them on too 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual content, dom!B, spanking, edging, dirty talk, oral. One caveat; I don’t do daddy kinks so I’ve modified slightly. 
> 
> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for requests and dirty talk <3

He pulls into the driveway fast and the tires squeal a little. The entire drive has a been a tease; your hand on his dick and his hand is up your dress; you’ve been reminded how your panties are definitely still back on the floor of the bar bathroom while his fingers stroke you.

Before you can even unbuckle, he’s at your door and hauling you up into his arms, pressing you against the car and kissing you fiercely. “Want you,” he gasps, and you can feel him hard against you in the delta of your thighs. You moan into his mouth and his hands are tight on your hips, holding you still while he ruts against you.

“Bren, baby,” you whimper, clutching his shoulders. He pulls back to look at you and you feel yourself get even wetter. “Want you to be rough. Take me.”

He bites his lip and groans again, tugging you inside before throwing you over his shoulder. You squeal as he carries you upstairs and drops you on his bed. “Tell me if it’s too much, if I go too far, okay?” He’s standing at the foot of the bed, eyes on you. His voice is soft but you can see the desire burning behind his gaze.

Shifting around, you slip off the bed and kneel in front of him. “Yes, sir.”

He rests a hand on top of your head and you preen, pressing into his touch. “That’s all you’re allowed to call me tonight, understand?” You nod and he smiles. “Such a good girl for me,” he sighs, and you reach up to undo his pants, unable to contain your own sigh of pleasure when his erection springs forth. “Gonna stay down on your knees, babygirl, suck me off?” He suggests, shedding his shirt and brushing your hair back behind your ear. You nod, taking him in your mouth and moaning around him. Slowly, you start to move on him, lips and tongue dragging across him, and you let him fall from your mouth with a giggle. Your lipstick is smeared across his cock and you look up at him, eyes wide. “Darlin, your mouth,” he sighs, leaning down to fix your lipstick with his thumb.

“Don’t bother fixing it sir, it’s only gonna get worse,” you whisper, licking your lips and taking him again. He inhales sharply and cups the back of your head, letting his hips rock forward. You nod enthusiastically, letting your jaw drop ever so slightly, giving him leeway to thrust freely.

“Holy fuck,” he gasps, watching his length disappear between your lips, the mauve stains of your lipstick deepening and smearing as you tighten your mouth around him with a happy moan. “God, babygirl, you look so good with my dick in your mouth. You gonna let me come in that pretty mouth?” You nod, pulling back and licking over him lightly, tongue swirling over his head while you stroke him with your hand. His head falls back and you swallow around him; he cries out when he hits the back of your throat and you just press further, moaning and whining around him. You curl your thumb and index finger around his base and squeeze, looking up at him and moaning again, letting your eyes flutter closed. “God, sweetheart, I’m gonna come,” he whispers and you nod, humming happily around him. The vibrations are what sets him off with a sharp cry; you feel him throbbing inside your mouth and then he’s coming, he’s down your throat and he’s coming and thrusting and you’re swallowing hard to keep up with him. When he finally stills, you pull back off of him with a satisfied smile, licking into the corners of your lips.

“Uh oh,” you sigh, using your index finger to swipe up a line of cum dripping from the corner of your mouth. “I didn’t swallow everything.” You give him that same wide-eyed innocent stare and he groans. “I should probably be punished, don’t you think?” Your tone is sugary sweet; he nods and moves to sit on the bed.

“Come here babygirl.” He pats his lap and you climb to your feet before perching on his lap. “No, lean over,” he corrects and shifts you so your body is perpendicular to his. “Pull this up,” he orders, tugging at your dress and you do, reaching back with one hand and wiggling roughly to get it up over your hips. “You didn’t swallow everything. How many do you think you deserve?” His palm is rubbing soft circles over your ass, fingers pressing and squeezing lightly every few seconds.

You consider, tipping your head to the side. “Probably ten. Do you want me to count, sir?”

He groans, squeezing firmly, almost testing you. “Yeah, honey. You’re gonna count for me.” Before he starts, he slips his hand between your thighs and spreads you a little more for him over his lap. “If you want me to stop, tell me ‘red,’ okay? I will not stop for ‘stop,’ or ‘ouch,’ or even if you cry.” You shiver a little. He’s good at this. “If you really want me to stop, use ‘red.’ Do you understand?” You nod and he goes back to rubbing over you. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs before bringing his hand down on the curve of your ass. You inhale sharply and count. His hand comes down again, and like before, it isn’t particularly hard but it is swift and it stings the slightest bit - but in a good way. He moves on, his hand making contact at the place where your ass meets your thigh and you moan, rocking back into his hand. His fingers slip down and he feels how wet you really are before swatting you again, harder this time.

This continues, escalating, until your face is buried in his sheets, and you’re gasping, “ten, sir, that’s ten.” Your thighs are quivering and your voice is high and tight. He goes back to rubbing gentle circles, light enough to be soothing and he’s murmuring soft praise in your ear.

“Babygirl, you did so well, I’m so proud of you.” His words are warm and sweet and you practically purr, arching your back into his touch. “Let’s see how wet those spankings got you, shall we?” His hand is back between your legs and he sucks in a breath, stroking you. “So hot for me,” he groans, and you nod. “Let’s see if we can do something about that,” he whispers and carefully, he helps you to your feet. “Strip for me, darlin.”

Your hands are trembling a little as you reach for the zipper and slowly, you let each strap of your dress slip from your shoulders, exposing more of the swell of your breasts. “You want me naked, sir?” When he nods, leaning back slightly and stroking his cock, you shift your shoulders to push the dress further down. When it catches at your hips, you roll it down and hiss a little when the fabric grazes over your ass. Finally, it hits the floor and you’re in your bra and heels. He leans forward and catches you by the waist and hauls back into bed. “Sir,” you gasp and he kisses you hard, rolling on top of you.

“There’s a present for you in my pants pocket. Go get it babygirl.” Fortunately, he kicked his pants to the side of the bed and you can shove your hand down and grab them without moving out from under him. You rummage in the pockets and gasp a little when you pull out your underwear from earlier. “As if I’m going to leave your pretty lace panties on the floor for someone to find. Those are mine.” You nod weakly and he plucks them from your fingertips. “Hands up, darlin.” Unsure, you hold both hands above your head and he shifts behind you to wrap your panties around both wrists until you’re snugly bound. “Too tight?” You shake your head and he smiles. “Good. Lean back.” You obey and he runs a finger down between your breasts, down your stomach, and against your clit briefly. You gasp and rock your hips up, but he’s gone, pulling the belt out of his pants. He takes your bound hands and slips the belt under them and loops the belt buckle over his headboard, securing you there. “This okay?” And when you nod, he smiles and kisses your forehead. “You’re comfortable?” You shift a little and nod again. “Good. You’re gonna be here for a while.”

And with those words, he drops down your body and spreads your legs, tongue sliding through your slick. He groans into your pussy and you squeal in pleasure, rocking your hips up. His tongue thrusts into you, lapping you up, while his finger circles around your clit - not actually touching, just teasing. You can already feel your wetness on his face, his movements are spreading it across your thighs and you moan, spreading your legs wider and arching into his mouth. Your nipples are so hard and he runs a hand up to tease them under your bra, licking you harder when you cry out in pleasure. “Sir, it feels so good!”

“Yeah darlin, let me hear you,” he rasps, feathering a kiss over your inner thigh. “Wanna hear how good I’m making my babygirl feel.” His tongue keeps teasing you and his finger is just circling, circling, circling and it’s all too much.

“Sir, please,” you cry and your walls must be trembling because he actually lets his finger brush your clit and you’re right there, “oh fuck, fuck, sir I’m gonna-“

He shoves himself away from your pussy, licking his lips. “I’m going to go get some water. Do you need anything, darlin?” You stare at him wordlessly, chest heaving. “No? Okay, I’ll be back.” He walks out of the room and you’re shaking, you were so close. When he comes back, a glass of water in hand, he sits in between your legs and runs two fingers up and down idly, smirking when you shiver. “How you doing, baby?”

You stare at him, still trembling. “Sir, I almost-“

“I know. You didn’t think I’d let the fun be over so quickly, did you?” He grins at you and you inhale sharply, desperate for contact. “Here honey, have some water.” Carefully, you wiggle up into a slightly elevated position and he gently tips the glass to your mouth. You swallow appreciatively, and he kisses your forehead before setting the glass on the nightstand. “Back down babygirl.”

You slide back down the bed and he settles between your legs, kissing your inner thighs. “So pretty,” he sighs, looking up at you through dark lashes as he kisses your clit. “And you taste so good,” he moans, running his tongue across you before cupping your ass in both hands and lifting you slightly to slide his tongue in deeper.

“Yes, oh god sir, your tongue feels so nice in me,” you whisper, rocking against his face. He murmurs something unintelligible and doubles down, tonguing you hard before sliding up to suck at your clit slightly. “Oh god, oh fuck-“ and he’s gone again, eyes heavy, watching your hips roll and buck against nothing. You let out a sharp, frustrated whine. “How many times are you going to do this?” You protest, spreading your thighs and rocking your hips towards him. “I need to come, sir.” Your voice is plaintive and desperate.

“You don’t need it yet. You want it,” Brendon corrects you, rubbing small circles on your hips.

“Yes sir, I want it. I want it so badly,” you whine and he flicks your thigh.

“Don’t whine babygirl. I’ll make you come, don’t worry.”

“Please,” you practically sob, and he leans over to kiss you lightly.

“No.”

He climbs off of the bed and stretches a little before crawling back over you and snuggling you as best he can with your arms bound above you. You try to slow your breathing, but his lips are on your shoulder, your neck, your breasts, and his fingers, fuck, his fingers are drawing little patterns on your stomach and you just want him so badly. He winks at you and slides two fingers in deep, groaning a little when you clench around him.

“Sir,” you whisper, and his eyes darken. You think his resolve is breaking. “Sir, please.”

His eyes run over you, arms above your head, legs spread, chest heaving. “How bad do you want it?”

“So badly,” you gasp. “I want to come for you so badly, want to show you how hot you make me, how worked up you get me, how much I love you, fuck, sir, please let me come so I can show you.” His fingers work harder, and he shifts down the bed so he can pull one of your legs around his shoulders. “Please, please sir.” You’re breathless now and he keeps thrusting his fingers.

He flicks his tongue against your clit and spreads his fingers a little, letting his tongue slip between them and slide deep into you before removing his fingers. He inverts his hand so his palm rests over your pelvis and his middle finger flies over your clit while his tongue circles deep inside you. Without warning, he presses his finger to your clit roughly and removes his tongue to cover you with his mouth and suck hard. You come undone and come hard, writhing on the bed under him as his tongue works you furiously.

“God, thank you, sir,” you cry, and he squeezes your thigh hard, tongue still collecting you, cleaning you.

“I love you babygirl.” He wipes a hand across his mouth and strokes his dick with it slowly. “And now I’m going to fuck you, okay?” You nod eagerly, biting your lip as he rocks into your slick wet heat. “Fuck darlin, you feel so good around my cock,” he moans, lifting one of your legs up over his hip.

“Sir,” you gasp in agreement, meeting his thrusts.

“I won’t tease you long,” he promises, shifting to his knees and raising your hips to meet his thrusts. At this angle, he’s filling you and rubbing against the perfect spot and you know you won’t last long either.

You don’t know how you manage to hold on for as long as you do; you give the credit to him for keeping you focused on him, his eyes on yours, the way he keeps telling you how good you’re doing, how good you are, how beautiful you look taking him, the soft murmur of his voice hypnotic.

“Babygirl, I’m gonna come for you,” he groans and you whimper, your focus broken. “You gonna come for me, angel?” And you nod, biting your lip. “Good. Wanna feel you.” He leans over to suck roughly at your nipple, pinching the other lightly as he enters you from a higher angle, the length of his dick sliding over your clit and you shriek as loud as you can remember ever shrieking; you think you black out. Everything is white. White electric shocks coursing through you, white light blinding you, white heat spreading from your pussy down over him, and you can’t hear anything, just fuzzy white noise. You feel him come inside you, and you feel yourself go limp as he releases your hips and you want to speak, to thank him, to praise him, but everything is white.

His hands move up your body, sending more shocks through you and you gasp, trembling. You feel your arms tense as he works with the belt and then you go slack. “Hold on babygirl, I’ve got you.” You can hear again and his words are soft. He untangles your panties from your wrists and, massaging them and your shoulders gently, lowers them back into place and he takes your bra off. You moan softly, and he whispers soothing things before scooping you up in his arms, nuzzling your neck. “You did so good baby; I love you so much.”

He turns on the hot water and stands in the shower, still holding you in both of his arms. “You think you can stand?” You shake your head feebly and he laughs softly. “Okay baby, I’ve got you, hold onto me.”

You cling to him, arms sore, thighs bruised, both tangled around him. He stands with you under the hot water for a moment, letting the sweat and slick wash from your bodies. “Just a minute longer baby, you’re okay.” He’s kissing your neck, one arm under your legs to support you, while the other smooths your hair back. “Can I move us, honey?”

You nod, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder. Fuck, you’ve never come so hard. He’s taking you downstairs and suddenly you’re outside and he’s pressing you to him while he messes with something; you don’t have the energy to lift your head. There’s a roar of sound and you blink. “Here we go babygirl, it’s gonna be hot,” he cautions, and he’s climbing and you’re clinging and then he’s sitting, sinking and you open your eyes, confused.

Your throat is sore so your voice comes out raspy. “You never said you had a hot tub.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You never asked. Figured it’d be a pleasant surprise.” You nod, slipping further into the water and letting him turn you so you’re cradled between his legs, back to his front. He turns slightly, grabbing a small bottle. “Lean forward honey.” You do and he’s filling his hands with something and then his hands, those fingers, they’re massaging your neck and shoulders and -“mandarin chamomile essential oils,” he tells you softly, using his thumbs to check your shoulders and neck for pulls or strains.

You moan, going limp in his hands and he kisses your temple, sliding his hands down your arms and gently massaging your wrists, turning and bending them. You don’t wince or gasp or cry out, just settle back into his chest.

“You feel okay, darlin?”

You nod, relishing his touch. Done with your wrists, satisfied you aren’t hurt, he moves his oil-slick hands down under the water to massage your bruised thighs. “I wasn’t too rough?” You shake your head, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Anything you want different next time? Assuming you want a next time?”

You turn slightly to kiss his cheek. “Brendon, it was great- incredible, really. There’s definitely going to be a next time.” You tell him, sighing happily.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself - I know I did,” he admits, going back to massaging your neck and shoulders. “Loved seeing you like that, begging for me, calling me sir,” he murmurs. “So sexy.”

“Mmmmm,” you agree, snuggling into his arms and closing your eyes again.

He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll be right back honey, give me about ten, maybe fifteen, minutes,” he promises and slips out of the water. “Don’t fall asleep without me.” You let your head fall back, just enjoying the heat and the jets. Sure enough, he’s back with two bottles of water and a plate of steak bites, medium. “You need to eat something, baby,” and his voice is soft. You nod and accept the water, letting him feed you bites of steak, sharing the plate until it’s clean and he sets it aside over the edge. 

“I love you,” you whisper, and he whispers it back, fingers moving over your skin until both of you feel yourselves drifting off. “You take such good care of me,” you tell him, and he smiles.

“You’re my girlfriend, it’s my job to keep you safe and cared for. Let’s go inside honey,” he mumbles, and you stand a bit shakily as you both step out. He leans over to a shelf you hadn’t noticed before and passes you a fluffy bathrobe. He wraps you in it, tying it loosely, before putting on his own. “Ready for bed?”

You nod sleepily, and he leads you up the stairs where you both start to fall asleep promptly, on top of the covers, tangled in each other’s arms. He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I love you so much darlin.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual references, some triggerish abuse stuff at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for requests and dirty talk <3

Still a little sore but feeling much better, you slip out of his bed and make your way downstairs to make him breakfast. You’ve stolen one of his tees and are dancing to your “Good Mood” playlist as you scramble the eggs when he comes downstairs silently, watching you from the doorway.

He sneaks up behind you and puts his hands on your hips and you yelp. He laughs and grinds against you playfully and sings in your ear, “you know I love it when the music’s loud, but c'mon, strip that down for me, baby. Now there’s a lot of people in the crowd, but only you can dance with me, so put your hands on my body and swing that round for me, baby.”

You giggle, setting the pan back on the stove and grab his neck, working back against him before gyrating down the length of his body, hand trailing down his chest. “Jesus Milton,” he laughs when you roll back up, flipping your hair and pressing into him. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You grin back at him. “You’re one to talk. You know all the words to Strip That Down?”

He shrugs. “I know music.” He leans past you to turn off the stove and you twist to grab a plate for the eggs. “You didn’t have to make breakfast,” he remarks and you turn to kiss him.

“You took such good care of me last night, it’s the least I could do.”

He shakes his head, lifting you onto the counter and feeding you a bite of egg. “You keep talking like I did you some favor. You’re my girlfriend and I love you. Taking care of you is basically the bare minimum.”

You smile, wrap your legs around him, and pull him in for a kiss. “Disclaimer,” you whisper, “I think my pussy is still sore from last night, so I’m gonna take a rain check on morning sex.”

He laughs, tugging your hair lightly. “No worries, honey. Hell, it’s early enough that we can go back to bed and just cuddle for a bit before we have to get up.”

You nod, hopping off the counter. “Yeah, that. Let’s do that.” He puts the plate in the sink and sweeps you off your feet to carry you upstairs and back to his bed. You’re curled against him and the hand that isn’t holding you to him tightly is running through your hair, gently scratching your scalp, and you’re working hard at not falling back asleep.

“We gotta talk to Frank today,” he mumbles, burying his face in your hair and you nod slowly. “It’s gonna be okay. He’s just gonna be happy we came to him and he’s not finding out from a parent or something. I promise.”

You sigh, turning in his arms and breathing in the scent of his skin. “I’m just scared it’s not gonna be our thing anymore. It’s gonna be everyone’s. They’re all gonna have so many feelings and opinions.”

“Hey.” He cups your chin and brings your lips to his. “It’s always going to be our thing. It’s always gonna be just us, just the two of us. Yeah, they’ll have feelings and opinions, but they don’t get a vote. What they think doesn’t matter. All I care about is you and what you think.”

You blink back tears and snuggle closer. “Thank you. I love you.”

He presses his lips to the top of your head. “I love you too.” You both fall silent, clinging to each other, savoring the moment. His voice breaks the silence regretfully. “You ready to get up?”

“Not really,” you say with a laugh and you reluctantly scoot back and stand up. “But skipping isn’t a choice so…” you shrug, and hold out your hand to him. He takes it and crawls out of bed after you, joining you in the closet to get dressed.

The car drive is a comfortable quiet, his hand protectively on your thigh, your fingers curved over his. He looks over at you as he parks. “If we talk to him before lunch, we can probably go out for lunch together.” He meets your eyes. “If you want to get lunch together.”

You squeeze his hand. “I want to get lunch. Let’s talk to him as soon as we can.” He squeezes back and nods. As he opens your door and takes your hand, you relax. This is going to be fine. Everything with him just feels right and now you won’t have to hide it. You’re leaving the band room hand in hand and you can feel yourself shaking. “I’m really not nervous,” you promise him. “I’m just…I haven’t been openly in a relationship since…and I know I’m just in my head and I’m fine, we’re fine, it’s fine, I swear but -“

He stops, pulling you against him. “You don’t need to explain anything. We don’t need to talk to him today if you want to wait. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. “No, I’m tired of hiding how I feel. We’ll tell him.” He kisses you softly and you melt into his arms, whimpering slightly when he pulls your hips flush to his.

There’s a clearing of a throat and you both jerk apart, eyes wide. “Why do I have a feeling I’m the ‘him’ in this situation?” Your principal looks amused and you curse under your breath.

“Well.” Brendon shifts slightly and you pull back from his embrace, embarrassed. He turns you so you’re tucked into him, his arm around your waist. “Your feeling is accurate and you can probably guess what we have to tell you.”

Frank’s eyes shift between the two of you for a moment, clearly considering. “Well, as long as this isn’t interrupting your job or affecting your productivity, I’m fine with it. Do your students know?”

The two of you exchange glances and shrug. Brendon answers for both of you. “They claim to suspect and think we should be if we’re not.”

Frank looks pleased. “Well, they’re intuitive. Here’s hoping their test scores show this too.” He grins at the two of you and punches Brendon lightly on the shoulder. “Take care of her. She’s a real asset to the English department.” He points at you. “And don’t you lose me my 6th state placement.” You both nod and he smiles. “Now go be productive in your respective rooms.”

“I’m just gonna walk her to her room,” Brendon clarifies, taking your hand and Frank nods. The two of you set off and he squeezes your hand tightly. Once you round the door frame into your room, you both let out a sigh of relief. He lifts you up onto the desk closest to the door, resting his forehead against yours. “Well, not how I planned to tell him, but I can’t complain about the outcome.” You nod, agreeing. “All in all, I’m counting it as a win.”

You kiss him, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in roughly. “I’m sorry I doubted that telling him was the right choice. You were right. I feel a lot better already.” He smiles, running a finger down your cheek.

“You don’t need to apologize, honey. What are you working on today and what time do you want to go to lunch?”

You think for a moment, reviewing your mental checklist. “I have to redo the Macbeth anticipation escape room folders, make copies of Act 1, check my notes for Act 1, and file their papers on their sonnets. I can do lunch whenever. You?”

“Mostly music appreciation stuff. It’ll be a lot of notes and writing responses. Why don’t you come down here once you’ve finished what you want to get done before lunch and I’ll be ready to go whenever?”

“Sounds good. Is it dumb to say I’m going to miss you?” You look up at him wistfully and he looks at you with soft eyes, kissing you lightly.

“Not dumb at all, honey. I’m going to miss you. Come find me when you’re ready.” He cups your face affectionately and kisses you one last time before walking backwards out the door, eyes on you.

You are sure to work efficiently; your principal said over the intercom that if you felt good about your progress for the day, you could leave at 1pm, and Brendon texted you the name of a Chinese restaurant downtown and the two thoughts have warped into eating Chinese food naked in bed together in the middle of the afternoon. It’s fairly tame as far as your fantasies tend to go, but still very appealing. You’ve sent this thought to him and receive a thumbs up and a heart eyes emoji, so you’re pretty sure he’s working just as quickly to be in your bed.

You save your notes on Macbeth and put the finished folders to one side, standing and straightening your skirt. Time to go fetch your boyfriend. As you’re leaving, Gina calls out, asking if you want to get lunch with her. You make your apologies and promise to explain later as you head to the arts hall. His door is hanging open and you creep in, sneaking up on him. He turns before you can scare him and you both fall apart laughing when you jump in surprise.

“That was adorable,” he gasps, bent double, forearms on his knees. You try to catch your breath and end up sitting down on the floor, wiping at your eyes. He sits down next to you, arm slung over your shoulders. “God, I love you.”

You murmur it back to him, cocking your head to catch the strain of music. “What are you listening to?”

He stands, pulling you to your feet. “Adele. This week is Modern Masters, and she’s certainly a master of her voice.” You step into his embrace, the soft guitar soothing your senses. He gathers you in his arms, dipping his head down to your ear. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again.”

You take the next line, swaying against him. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again.”

His eyes are heavy lidded and he is holding you so tightly; you’re dizzy with want. The music plays in the background and you focus on his eyes as he sings softly to you. “However far away, I will always love you. However long I stay, I will always love you.” He pauses, kissing your forehead. “We need to go get lunch and get in your bed.” You nod a little breathlessly and he takes your hand, turning the music off with a remote he lifts off the floor.

The two of you pick up the food and rush back to your apartment, laughing as you strip down to nothing and pile into your bed, opening boxes of takeout. He feeds you bites of sesame chicken and you pass him delicate scoops of fried rice until you’re both full and slumped against the pillows, your head on his chest and his arms around you.

“Bren?” You look up at him cautiously. “Can I ask you a rude question?” He nods, stroking your arm. “And you can tell me to fuck off if you want. But, I’ve been wondering. And since the hot tub, I have to ask - how do you live like you do? How do you afford it?”

He laughs awkwardly, closing his eyes. “My parents owned a vineyard in Napa. They were pretty successful. They died when I was in college, in a freak accident. They were always worried about me being a teacher; didn’t think I’d make any money. When they died, turns out they left the vineyard to me, despite me not wanting to go into wine, as well as a good sum of money. I couldn’t stay, I just couldn’t be there without them. My best friend who has a business degree does day to day operations and I just work mainly to make sure my parents’ legacy, as it were, is preserved. I try to make the decisions they’d make and just make them proud. Any income from that goes to a food bank in their name; I took the money they left and set myself up to live comfortably doing what I love and put aside the rest of it for the future.” You squeeze his hand, eyes brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Your voice is thick with regret and he shakes his head, kissing you.

“It’s okay, honey. It would have come up eventually. And it’s been 8 years, so.” His lips tighten and you hug him tightly. “I’m glad I told you though. I think you’re the only one here who knows. And you deserve to know. I just wish they could have met you. That was their other fear. They knew my personality; I throw myself into my work. They didn’t think I’d meet anyone worth sharing my life with. I hope they can see I’m good, I’m happy. Fuck, I’m just so happy with you.” He’s tearing up and you choke back a sob of your own. “I really do love you so much,” he whispers and you nod.

“I love you too. I hope our parents have met up there. I know my mom and dad would love you. Just because you love me, they’d love you.” You swipe at your tears, sniffling. He runs a hand over your hair, pulling you into his lap so you’re facing him. You kiss him hard and he clutches you to him. One of his hands moves to your head, deepening the kiss and you moan into mouth.

The embrace lasts for a minute before you both pull away. He grins sheepishly, brushing a finger over your lips. “I feel weird doing…” he pauses, gesturing between your bodies, “this, after talking about our parents.”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, my dad might not love this part of our relationship.” He groans, burying his face in your neck and offering an apology to your father. “I kinda just want to cuddle and take a nap,” you admit, closing your eyes.

“We can do that, honey.” He scoots down so he’s on his back and you’re curled over him. “Go to sleep darlin, I’m right behind you,” he says with a yawn, running a hand over your back in soft circles.

The rapid knocking on your door jolts you both awake hours later and you look around blearily. “Should I get that?” You wipe at your eyes and he nods, equally drowsy.

“Sounds urgent.”

You roll off of him and scoop his shirt off the shrugging into it. In hindsight, not your best move. You wriggle into a pair of shorts you’ve left on the floor and head for the door.

“Hell-“ you freeze and he smiles.

“Hey Y/n.” His eyes scan over you, taking in your messy hair, smudged makeup, the man’s dress shirt and wrinkled shorts and his jaw tightens and his eyes go cold.

You slam the door just as Brendon comes up behind you. “No no no no no,” you gasp, eyes wide. Brendon is in his dress pants and nothing else, and you’re guessing he rushed after you because they’re unzipped and unbuttoned just like the other morning.

“Y/n, who the fuck was that?” His voice on the other side of the door is sharp. He’s banging on your door and Brendon kneels silently beside you, worry shining in his eyes. “Y/n, open the fucking door.” He’s yelling now and you’re rocking on the floor.

“No, no no no no. Please no.” You’re almost wailing now, clutching at Brendon frantically, eyes wild. You’re trapped. The room is closing in and you’re trapped and you can’t breathe and how did he even find you?

“Open the fucking door, I swear to god.” He’s not yelling anymore and that might be worse. “Y/n, don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: discussion of abusive relationship, oral sex, condomless sex (she has an IUD; make good choices.)
> 
> Special gratitude to everyone @agirlwithlonelymusic, @svintsandghosts, @battybabe23, and all of the countless anons on tumblr who kept me going) who reached out to me while writing this chapter (the first bit was hard, for obvious reasons, considering my background) and especially to @panicmarvelfics for being my sounding board and motivator and telling me yes I fucking can do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for requests and dirty talk <3

You can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t breathe and then Brendon’s lips are on yours. You gasp sharply as air flooding your system, and he pulls back, cupping your face in both of his hands.

“You’re okay baby. Y/n, honey, I need you to breathe with me. Okay?” You nod and he gives you an encouraging smile. “Okay. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Inhale for four beats, hold your breath for seven beats, and then exhale for eight beats.” His voice is soft and soothing; you feel your heart rate start adjusting to a normal, healthy number.

He’s moved his hands from your face and is holding both of yours, his thumb moving gently over your knuckles as he meets your eyes. It’s gotten quiet outside your door and you break eye contact with him to glance nervously at the door. “Hey, you.” The words are gentle and tender. You turn back to him. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. He’s not putting one toe in your home.”

You can feel your shoulders slump and he pulls you into his lap. “Keep breathing, honey. With me, yes. You’re doing so good, baby. Good. In…and hold…and out.” He’s tapping the counts between on your thigh with a light touch of his index finger and you rest your head against his chest, feeling his heart rate and how yours is slowly syncing up to it. Your sobs are less broken, and he’s wiped your tears away gently with the pad of his thumb. “You’re okay,” he tells you, resting his chin on your head. “You’re okay, baby. I’m right here. Nothing is gonna happen.”

If this were a movie, there’d be a knock on your door right now. You glance at it nervously and wait.

Nothing. Nothing happens.

You shift back to Brendon who kisses you softly. “Do you want me to check if he’s still there?” You shake your head rapidly and cling to him. You’re aware you haven’t spoken at all; the words are just too hard right now and Brendon seems to sense this. He’s making it easy for you with his ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions. “Do you want to go back to bed?” You nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead before standing, bringing you to your feet with him. “Come here, baby.” You move in closer and he lifts you with ease. Arms around his neck and legs around his waist, you’re carried into your bedroom and he lays you out on the bed, crawling up over you and bringing the blanket with him.

He curls around you, pulling you back against him and stroking your hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here.” Your sobs taper off and you take a soft, shuddering breath, closing your eyes.

“Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse from crying but you feel significantly better. One of his hands finds yours and he brings it back to kiss the back of it.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” He nuzzles your hand and fingers, kissing each lightly. “I know sometimes it helps to talk things through but sometimes it only makes it worse. So we can do whichever or whatever you want, okay, honey?”

You consider, turning to him and meeting his eyes. “I told you he wasn’t abusive; it was just a messy end. That wasn’t entirely the truth - and I’m sorry for not being more open - but it also wasn’t entirely a lie either. His abuse didn’t leave bruises, until the very end, and was much more subtle. I didn’t even notice most of the damage until he left me for good.” Brendon nods, listening carefully, your hand still in his. “I didn’t realize how much of myself I gave up for him. How much I compromised and gave away and neglected and denied in order to keep him. And in the end, when he decided didn’t want me after all, it broke me. I didn’t know who I truly was anymore because I wrecked my true self for him, to be what I thought he wanted.” You take a shaky breath and frown a little. “I’m being stupid.”

Brendon squeezes your hand, visibly upset. “No, you’re not. You’re loyal and dedicated and passionate and caring. Stupid is the last word I’d ever use for you.” You meet his eyes and nod a little, accepting his correction.

“Well, it had been maybe 3 months since he ended it and I was doing better; I really was. I wasn’t great, but I was decent. And he came back. And he said all the right things, apologized for all the right things, made me believe it would be different. And it was, for a few months at least. But then he started getting worse than he was before - less and less present, always distant. Condescending when he paid attention to me. I didn’t know what changed, but something had. Sex was less and less frequent and he was just so…detached. It was always fucking, it was never, ugh, and this sounds cheesy I’m sure, making love. It was never…okay, yeah, it was never intimate. He made it feel like a transaction. There was nothing after. He’d shower, kiss me goodnight, and go back downstairs, work on his laptop and watch TV til 3 in the morning, and then he’d finally come to bed. It wasn’t a relationship. It was a roommate situation where he fucked me when he wanted to do so.” You’re feeling yourself get tense and you wince. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize darlin. I’m just proud of you for talking about all of this; I know it can’t be easy.”

“So when he asked me to marry him, I had my reservations. But I loved him and I thought it was what I wanted and thought he would change, so I said yes. And we were happy, we were. Things got better again. And then they were bad, worse than ever. He woke up after I was gone and came home after I was asleep. If we were home and awake together, he was on his phone. If he spoke to me, it was passive-aggressive criticism. I shouldn’t have stayed and I certainly shouldn’t have been surprised when he ended it.” You take a soft, shuddering breath. “But he did. And I was. And then my grandma died and I couldn’t handle it so I moved as soon as the school year was over and it was rough but I had a new start in Amarillo. I liked my school, I liked the area. Things were okay. Time passed. Things were good. He showed up this past April with a bottle of wine and another apology and what had been my ring. He asked for another chance. I told him no and he went fucking nuts. Grabbed my wrist so hard I was bruised for two weeks. Slammed my head against the doorframe and when I came to, he was gone. I called my best friend and she drove overnight to get to me; she picked me up from the hospital, and after yelling at me for not pressing charges, started packing.”

His jaw is clenched and you’re running your fingers over the tension there, tears welling. He takes your wrist in his fingers delicately, examining it before meeting your eyes. You can see the fury, the despair, the sheer pain there. You break as fresh, hot tears spill over and you bury your face in his chest, your own heaving. “Tell me how I can make this better.” His voice is laced with misery and you press closer, both of his arms pulling you in.

“This is going to sound insane, so let me explain first.” You take a steadying breath, your eyes lifted to his. “Right now, I just feel…raw. Vulnerable. Having him here, in my space, in our space, it’s jarring. It’s not right. And I want you to remind me that it’s different with you, that you’re different, we’re different. I want you to reclaim this space, this afternoon. I don’t want to remember today ending with him threatening me. I want to remember it with you. So, and I feel so awkward wording it this way-“

He cuts you off with a soft kiss. “I think I know where you’re going with this honey, so if you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to.” You feel your shoulders drop in relief and he chuckles a little, kissing you again, shifting so he’s hovering over you and resting on one forearm. His lips press a bit harder, his other hand moves gently down the curve of your body, and when his fingers reach the hem of his shirt, you both start working on the buttons. Normally this action is frantic on both sides. Tonight, right now, he’s moving slowly, steadily but slowly, and you let him set the pace. He makes this feel right and safe and good; he can set the pace. Once totally unbuttoned, he lifts you up slightly to pull the shirt off, and his lips find your breasts. He licks tenderly at each nipple, tongue swirling and lips suckling, and your back arches, pressing closer to his mouth. Meanwhile, his hand is traveling down your stomach and across your pelvis, slipping under the waistband of your athletic shorts, fingertips just brushing against you. “Is this okay, darlin?” He pulls back from your breast to gaze up at you longingly. His voice is soft, softer than his touch, and you nod, running your hands down over his back. Together, you get your shorts off and he strokes you gently, while his lips return to their earlier task. When both are hard, he slides back up your body to kiss you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth while his fingers press a little more firmly. You’re getting really wet; you can both feel it, and there’s a surge of heat when his teeth catch your lower lip, tugging gently.

You nod against his mouth and roll your hips tentatively, trying to tell him he can go ahead. He takes the hint and runs his fingers lengthwise over you, so they’re good and slick, and presses into you slowly. “So good, Brendon, god,” you moan quietly, eyes fluttering shut.

His fingers still inside you and you open your eyes to protest but he starts moving again. “I wanna watch you watch me,” he whispers, adjusting his forearm so he can slip down between your legs. “I want you to see how much I love making you feel good, feel safe, feel loved.” He spreads your legs wider, and, eyes on yours, runs his tongue against you gently. “Want you to see how much I love how you taste,” he adds, his voice soft. His lips pull back and he sucks gently at your inner thigh. “To see how I tease myself, not letting myself really have you, how I stall and deny and build,” at this he licks over you swiftly, “our desire,” and he licks again, harder, tongue seeking out and finding your clit, rolling over it in soft strokes. “How every part of me is turned on by and tuned in to you,” and while you don’t mean to prove his point, you sigh and shift and its true, his entire head - no, his whole body too - is shifting to stay aligned with your heat. “See, baby? See how much I love you and love seeing you feel good -“ there’s more, or there should be, but you both interrupt his stream of consciousness with your synchronized moans of want. “God, I fucking love how hot for you I am right now.” You crane your neck ever so slightly and sure enough, his hips are rocking into the mattress in circles, his thrusts keeping pace with his tongue. “Wanna feel you around me baby, but don’t wanna stop tasting you,” he sighs, and he turns his head again to press his lips to the opposite thigh from earlier, giving you a matching set of marks. “God, my life is so…” and he pauses to groan a little and his hips move faster, “hard…right now, isn’t it? Can’t make love to my beautiful girlfriend because I can’t bear to stop licking her perfect pussy.” He chuckles softly, and moves back to licking and sucking, while his fingers massage your hip lightly. His eyes are on yours and you want to explode or die or both; it’s all too good.

“Brendon,” you sigh, and he smiles, eyes sparkling from between your thighs. “Feels really good,” you manage, and he nods slightly, letting the length of his tongue rub you. Your hips roll and he moves with you still, moaning against you contentedly when you fist his hair, eyes still locked.

“Gimme your hand, honey,” he requests breathlessly, pausing in his treatment of your heat to take your hand. You think he’s gonna have you spread yourself for him again, but he just laces your fingers together and squeezes your hand when you moan. “Love your hands, baby. So soft and delicate but so strong too; they’re just like you.” His eyes are still, still, on yours and his thumb is rubbing your hand and you manage to catch your breath before his tongue pushes back against you and your breath is ripped out.

Time passes and the only indication is his heavy breathing and your soft cries as he pushes your desire, your arousal, your pleasure to previously unknown heights. He pushes closer, hips slowing; it’s like he can sense how close you are. Your cries have gotten a little louder and more desperate, and he moans once more against you and it’s what sets you off. It’s not a violent, shaking climax; it’s fitting for the pleasure - a soft, warm release with what can only be described as a releasing of tension and total bliss. “Yes,” you sigh, hand squeezing his as it rolls through you. “Brendon, baby, yes.”

The tension in his shoulders melts a little and he moves back up over you before taking your other hand and pushing them both up over your head and kissing you, letting his tongue dip into your mouth so you can taste yourself on him. “Love doing that,” he whispers and you can feel how hard he is against you now.

“Want you,” you sigh, and he nods against your lips. He releases your hands and pushes his jeans down his thighs and off his body, while his neck attaches to your lips and he is murmuring soft things against your skin. He’s finally undressed and he’s got one of your hands in his again, the other guiding his length to rub against you before you inhale sharply, happily, feeling him push against you. “Please,” you whisper and, he props himself up, his forearm folded over, framing your head, the other hand holding yours, resting on the side of your head and completing the frame. You can’t fight the moan when he pushes into you fully until his hips are flush against yours. He doesn’t move for a moment; both of you just watch each other, breathing hard and adjusting to the sensation. “I know,” you laugh lightly, “I know this isn’t the first time we’ve done this but god, I’ll never get tired of this first moment; how full and perfect I feel with you in me like this.” You can feel him throb inside you a little at your words and he nods, swooping down to kiss you.

“I’ll never get tired of filling you,” he murmurs before his tongue slips in and his hips start to move. He’s moving slowly but deliberately, and your instinct is to let your head roll back and just feel, but he wants to see you, and really, you want to see him too, so you take your free hand and run it down his back, eyes fluttering but not closing. He’s switched from his normal strokes and now, right before he pushes back inside, he lets his hips dip in a small circle, creating beautiful pressure around your opening with the head of his cock. You whimper happily, clutching his back now. “You like that, honey?”

You’re overwhelmed. You’re nearly positive Brendon’s asked you that before in some way, but tonight, after seeing him outside your door, it takes on new meaning. He would ask but it sounded like a challenge, almost like he was daring you to say no, or he wouldn’t ask at all; it would be a statement, a bragging moment, so confident that your answer was yes that he didn’t need to ask. Brendon sounds genuinely concerned, interested, invested in your pleasure. “God, yes Brendon, please, don’t stop,” you finally manage, squeezing his hand in yours. He releases your hand but quickly adjusts the arm over your head to take it instead, and you flip your wrist to make it easier for him. His now free hand moves down between your legs, just petting over you, thumb massaging your lips on either side of him. He pauses though, when your hips rock up, and he reaches for the pillow next to your head so he can slide it under you to keep you elevated.

“Better?” He kisses your neck and pulls back to meet your eyes, smiling when you nod and spread your legs a little wider. “You feel so good,” he tells you and his voice has dropped in pitch. You can’t help it; you moan and clutch him closer. “Want you to feel good, honey.”

Your breath catches in your throat; at this new angle, he’s going deeper and you’re feeling all of him, and you tell him you do, you do feel so good. His thumb is pressing your clit again and he’s letting his pace build ever so slightly, eyes on yours to gauge what feels best. When you let out a choked cry of pleasure, he leans down to bite your neck lightly and locks in his hips at that speed. “Please,” you whisper, moving your hand from his back up to his hair. “Please, make me come.” You kiss him hard, rolling your hips in small circles against his strokes, hand gripping his. “Please,” you repeat, “please make me come, remind me that it’s you.” His eyes are soft and he kisses your forehead.

“You’re okay honey, it’s just me. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, okay?” He curses under his breath lightly when your pussy squeezes around him. “I want you to come for me, okay honey? Once you come, I’ll be able to, and you’ll know it’s me, it’s always been me, it’ll always be me taking care of you, protecting you, loving you.”

His thumb moves to find your clit and he moves in circles to match your hips. “Oh god,” you gasp, pressing harder. “Oh god, Brendon, yes, right there.”

Your eyes meet and his thumb moves faster. “I love you,” he tells you, and you’re moaning, coming, and like before, it’s gentle, almost soothing - but just as pleasurable for sure. He groans when he feels you, and with one more thrust, he’s spilling into you. “God, I love you,” he repeats, finally letting his head fall into the crook of your neck.

You wrap your legs around him and he goes limp, gathering your face in both hands and kissing you softly. “I love you too,” you whisper between kisses.

-||-

“You’re out of eggs so I went through your pantry and found these.” His voice is playfully accusing and you open your eyes, stretching a little and smiling. He’s naked in your doorway, holding a box of hot fudge sundae poptarts and you grin. Even naked holding poptarts, he’s the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. “Care to explain why these are warm and not in the freezer?” He’s grinning now and you look confused.

“Why would they be-Jesus Brendon!” He’s crossing the room and pouncing on you, kissing you hard and tugging you out of bed. You’re naked too and you grab the bedsheet, bringing it with you. He carries you into the living room, deposits you on the couch, and kisses your forehead, disappearing into your kitchen. When he comes back, he’s holding two foil poptart packages and you can see they’re frosty from the cold. He bounds back over and you adjust to let him slip behind you, sheet thrown over both of you. “What are we doing? It’s like 9pm.” Your voice is scratchy with sleep and he kisses your temple.

“We’re getting a head start on Saturday morning.” He opens the poptarts and breaks them into small, chilled pieces, feeding them to you.

“Jesus, that’s incredible.” You turn to stare at him, wide-eyed. “The filling is like ice cream.” You’re in shock; you can’t believe you’ve never done this. He nods, popping another piece in your mouth and you both devour your first poptart with relish. He turns on the TV and scrolls through Netflix, finally landing on DuckTales. He sets the remaining poptarts on your lap, and grabs your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You giggle as he sings the theme song in your ear and you give in halfway through. “Might solve a mystery! Or rewrite history!” You’re both laughing and singing along and you’re letting him control your arms so you’re both dancing, full-energy on the couch.

Breathing hard, you fall back against his chest. “Damn Urie, you commit,” you laugh, and he nods thoughtfully, taking your hand and kissing it before sliding out from behind you and onto one knee beside the couch, your left hand still in his. “Brendon, what are you doing?” Your voice shakes and you can feel your eyes welling up as you look at him. You can’t stop smiling though, and he beams back at you, his own eyes glassy.

“Committing.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-15 can be found on my Masterlist.
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: dirty talk, language in general, fellatio, condomless (she has an IUD) sex.
> 
> NOTE: BRENDON’S POV UNTIL OTHERWISE NOTED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

She’s beaming down at you and you feel warm all over and you can’t stop grinning, but it’s when you look closer you see a flicker of something, not fear exactly, in her eyes. Abort. Abort. Or redirect somehow; you’re down on one knee and holding her hand, you’re going to look like a moron if you just do nothing. This was a bad idea; you were so caught up in the moment and her eyes and fuck, this is bad. You cannot ask her to marry you, not after everything she’s been through in the last 12 hours. You just can’t. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid, fix this.

“Will you move in with me?” The words slip out and you hold your breath. You didn’t know you wanted it until you heard yourself say it out loud; but it feels right. Certainly more appropriate than marriage right now.

Her shoulders slacken in relief ever so slightly and she’s still smiling, okay good, and she’s nodding and slipping down off the couch to kiss you. “I’m not gonna lie, I thought you were going to ask me to marry you,” she murmurs against your lips.

“I thought about it,” you admit, blushing a little and caressing her cheek, “but you looked - I mean you did look happy don’t get me wrong but - kinda freaked out and considering everything you’ve told me tonight I realized that was a terrible idea and I didn’t want to freak you out. You’re like my baby deer; I don’t want to spook you and lose you entirely.” She smiles softly, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“I appreciate that. I mean, had you asked, I would have said yes because I do love you. But I think deep down I would have been sort of scared. Especially considering, well, everything.”

You give yourself a mental high five for taking a sharp left turn, plan-wise, and nod. “And I mean, I can do better than naked in a sheet. What would people say?” You grin and kiss her softly. “And what’s more, I don’t have a ring. This was definitely an impulse that needed to be curbed. When I ask you to marry me, there will definitely be a diamond involved.”

She blushes and you play with her fingers, kissing the fingertip of each, letting your tongue tease her ring finger, slipping your mouth over it, sucking lightly and meeting her eyes. She moans a little as you pull back, and she tugs your hand a little, nodding towards the hallway. “Take me back to bed, Urie.” You stand, helping her up.

“With pleasure, Milton.”

-||-

You’re laying in bed together naked, both warm and sleepy in the best way that only great sex can bring, her head resting on your chest, and your fingers tangled in her hair, scratching her scalp idly. Her eyes are closed but you’re pretty sure she’s awake; she’s coherent enough in the conversation you’re having about breaking her lease and moving vans at least.

“Honestly, I just want to sell all of the furniture. Not even bother moving it.” She stretches, luxuriating in your touch, her legs moving against yours. “If that’s okay with you.” She rolls onto her stomach and props up her chin in both hands. “And I’m fine with breaking my lease, but if the fee comes out to be the remaining months’ rent, I might just keep it for the duration of the lease. That way we can move things slowly, no pressure.”

You lean over and kiss her lightly, and she abandons supporting her chin to scoot back into your arms. “If you don’t want to move in with me, no pressure, baby. My feelings won’t be hurt,” you whisper as your lips leave hers and move down her neck. She turns to look at you, eyes wide.

“That is not what I meant at all;. That is not it, at all.”

You laugh a little and kiss her forehead. “Settle down Prufrock, we’re all good. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to.” Your hands are running over her back and she snuggles in.

“Definitely not. And I don’t want you feeling like you have to let me. I know it was your ‘okay I can’t ask her to marry me so here’s this’ but I don’t need a consolation prize if you don’t want-“

You cut her off with a hard embrace, hands slipping down to her hips and pulling her against you so she can feel you getting hard again. “I want you. I want you living with me. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you and go grocery shopping and run errands with you or just have lazy weekends with you. I want to cook dinner with you and eat at the table like adults and I want takeout with you on the couch because fuck it, we’re adults and we can do what we want. I want you to fall asleep at peace because you don’t have to wake up early to get to your place and change. I want to watch you take off your makeup at night and put it on in the morning; fuck, I even want to find your bobby pins everywhere. I want all of you. Don’t call it a consolation prize; you moving in is the last thing that would be a consolation prize. You’re everything I want and more and I want you and everything you are forever.”

You’re breathing hard, clearly impassioned, and she twines her arms around your neck and rocks against you, clearly relishing the hardness she finds there. “Well I can’t top that so I’ll just say yes and start packing tomorrow. Now, you’re sure that wasn’t your proposal? Because that was pretty good,” she teases and you grin, your lips finding hers.

“Just you wait. I can do better than that.” She yawns a little and smiles sleepily. You brush a hand over her hair and she snuggles in, eyes fluttering shut. “Sleepy, baby?” She nods without looking up and your heart melts. “Go to sleep, honey. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

-||- POV SHIFT -||-

Your eyes snap open and your head shoots up. You’re breathing hard and you look around frantically. Just a nightmare. You’re okay. He’s still asleep on his stomach, back rising and falling rhythmically, head turned to you and his dark lashes a contrast against creamy skin. You’re okay. His arm is curled around your waist and you’re okay. He moans in his sleep and turns, rolling onto his back, his grip releasing you but you can see his hand searching for you. Without thinking, purely on instinct, you turn onto your stomach to stay in contact with him, your arm now the one to possessively drape across his body, your hand flat against him, letting your hand move with his breath.

He mumbles something and you kiss his cheek as your hand moves lower, finding him mostly hard. You bring your hand back and lick it before closing around him again, stroking gently, stifling your own moan when he gets harder under your touch. You slip down the length of his body until your head rests next to his thigh and you can watch him slip through your fist. You’re fascinated, how he’s so velvety smooth but so hard at the same time. You whimper, watching the head of his cock disappear and reappear as you move your hand, the tip darkening and shining as a tiny drop of pre-cum appears and you spread it across with your thumb. You relish the slick between the pad of your thumb and the tenderness of his dick, and he moans quietly, hips involuntarily twitching into your grip. Gently, you rotate your wrist as you bring your hand down, and his eyes flicker open. “Babygirl,” he sighs and rests his hand on the top of your head; it’s as much of you as he can reach when you’re so low. A thrill runs through you.

“Good morning, love,” you murmur, eyes flitting to his momentarily before going back to your task at hand, your lower lip trapped by your teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks softly and you grin. It’s kind of a dumb question. And yet…”I mean obviously I know what you’re doing,” he adds, chuckling to himself under his breath. “I guess the question is why?”

“Wanted to touch you. Wanted to make you feel good,” you tell him, and he runs a hand through your hair, letting his head fall back against the pillow.

“You’re doing a damn good job,” he tells you, and you pick up your speed and tighten your fist; his praise spurring you on. “God, babygirl, so good,” he whispers, and his eyes fall shut again. “Didn’t know a handjob could feel so nice,” he murmurs after a minute, rocking his hips a little and you take the hint, going faster still, whimpering with longing as each pearl appears and melts under your touch. “What’s that line from Spring Awakening? ‘Watching his world slip through my fist’? Because yeah. That,” he sighs, propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

“Love watching you,” you tell him, eyes focused. “I mean, fuck, look at you. You’re perfect. Everything about you is perfect.” You both watch for a moment, how his length slides smoothly through your slick grasp, aided by the slow but steady emergence of pre-cum, and he groans softly when you lean forward to lick the head, eyes meeting his as you do. “It’s like your dick was made for me; you fuck me perfectly, just like I love and need, but I can also take all of you in my mouth,” and you do, rolling up and kneeling over him so you can close your lips over him.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pushing his hips down into your mattress to avoid thrusting against you. He leans down to one side, stretching to get his hand under you, stroking your lips and inhaling sharply when he feels how wet you are. “Babygirl, you’re so wet for me,” he groans, running his fingers along you, pressing lightly.

You pull back, your lips shiny and slightly swollen. “Fucking love when you call me that. First time you did was when you dominated the fuck out of me and I don’t think you have again until today, so hearing it right now gets me so worked up,” you tell him as you jack him firmly, relishing how his back arches ever so slightly and his hips rock into your grasp.

He laughs lightly, interrupting himself with a moan. “I’m, fuck, conditioning you,” he teases. “Only gonna call you that when you’re really hot for me, so eventually I’ll be able to say it whenever and get you from zero to sixty, as it were.” He grins and you poke him in the thigh, giggling.

“It’s not a bad idea,” you admit, giving his length a long lick and slipping just his head back into your mouth, letting your mouth go concave around him and sucking hard before releasing with an audible ‘pop.’ “But you’ve gotta promise to use this power responsibly.”

He smirks, tugging your hair a little. “So I shouldn’t whisper it to you during a faculty meeting and get you crawling under the table to suck me off?” His eyes are heavy at the thought and you moan a little, rocking against his fingers. You can picture it too, in the back of the auditorium where Frank calls his formal meetings, the two of you sitting alone, his hand creeping up your thigh before leaning over and whispering in your ear; you instinctively needing him and sliding to your knees. Quietly unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants slowly, finding him already hard, covering him with your mouth, feeling his heavy weight on your tongue, and trying not to moan around his dick when he comes in your mouth with his hand tight in your hair. But what if…no. Worse would be if he wanted to finger you, whispering to you and keeping you in your chair, fingers slipping up under your dress and of course you’d spread your legs and of course you’d be wet for him. He’d slide his fingers in deep and you’d have to muffle everything and look normal when he made you come. No, him wanting to fuck you with his fingers would be far worse.

“No. That would be mean. No faculty meetings, no planning periods,” he pouts a little and you laugh. “No mornings when it’ll make us late, and nowhere in public where we’d get charged with lewd and lascivious.” He pretends to think, letting his fingers slide deep into you.

“I’ll agree to three of those.”

“Which three?” You look panicked and he grins, shaking his head. “Bren, which three?”

“Don’t you worry babygirl. I won’t get you in trouble. Now be a good girl for me and finish what you started, hm?”

Knowing his plan for the nickname doesn’t make it any less effective; you can’t fight the rush of arousal and you want him back in your mouth. You take him halfway, your hand closing around the rest of him, squeezing repeatedly while your tongue swirls around the tip.

“Fuck honey, gonna make me come,” he whispers and you pull off, wiping a hand across the back of your mouth and grinning a little when he lets out a desperate cry.

“You’re gonna come. But it’s gonna be in me, not my mouth.” Your words come out soft and you meet his eyes as you crawl up over him, wiggling your hips back. He takes the hint and grasps both, lowering you back onto his cock. “Fuck yes,” you sigh, rolling a little in his lap, feeling him pulse a little inside you.

“Babygirl, you feel so good,” he tells you, eyes fighting to stay open. “Wanna fuck you forever, wanna feel your sweet pussy on me always, fuck,” he hisses when you push back hard, causing him to press deep inside you at just the right angle and you clench around him.

“I’m in favor of this fucking forever thing but I’d like to petition the board to make an allowance for food and shower breaks.” You manage to whisper, burying your face in between his shoulder and neck.

He laughs and smacks your ass firmly, his dick throbbing in you when you moan and tighten. “The board approves the request. Both parties can have one hour three times a day to use for bathing and food as they see fit. But,” he pauses and bites your neck lightly, “there will probably be some fucking in the shower.”

You nod, returning the bite to his shoulder. “Seems reasonable.”

He starts rocking up into you, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your thigh. “Wanna see you come like this babygirl,” he tells you, “wanna feel you come hard on my dick, wanna feel you choke my cock and make me come in this perfect pussy until neither of us can take it. Want you crying my name like it’s the only fucking thing you can say, wanna hear you come for me babygirl.” He is breathing hard and you have been whimpering into the crook of his neck since he started talking. “Gonna play with your clit now, honey, gonna make you come,” he tells you, and you arch your back just enough to let his hand slip between your bodies that are flush together.

“Oh shit, Brendon,” you gasp when he makes good on his promise, thumb slipping up against you and moving in little circles.

“Yeah babygirl, say it again.”

“Brendon, fuck, fuck this was supposed to be me spoiling you,” you protest, rocking harder on him.

He presses against your clit a bit more, lips caressing your neck. “And what makes you think I’m not loving this right now? My sexy girlfriend woke me up by playing with my cock and now she’s riding me like her life depends on it, letting me tease her clit until she comes so hard I’m gonna have to change her sheets while she’s in the shower. Yeah babygirl, you gonna come hard for me? Do it. Come for your man.” You gasp his name, eyes fluttering shut, whispering his name over and over again as you feel your orgasm pressing closer. He can tell; he releases your thigh to smack your ass once and instructs you again. “Come on me, come all over my cock, fuck babygirl, you look so beautiful like this.”

You roll back to sit up and let yourself drop once more and that’s all it takes, you’re shaking and crying out and his hand tightens in your hair, tugging gently as he keeps rocking into you. “So fucking tight, so wet,” he hisses, his thrusts getting sloppy and erratic. “Gonna come in you babygirl, gonna fill you up.”

His release pushes you over the edge again, and you double over to kiss him hard. You’re both gasping into each other’s mouths, hands groping and squeezing and hips rocking until you’re both spent. “Fuck, Brendon,” you sigh, wiggling off of him and slumping against his chest, legs spread over him and your wet core pressed against his lower stomach.

“Yeah babygirl, keep saying my name,” he grins tiredly. “Remember who fucks you best.”

-||-

He kept his promise and showered with you, digging his fingers into your scalp and massaging the shampoo in and rinsing it out before running the conditioner through. You return the gesture, and the two of you make an attempt at washing each other, but it’s a distracting task at best. He’s kissing you hard against the ceramic wall, fingers pressing into your thighs, and when his lips start moving across your neck, you moan and press closer.

“Ssssssh baby, we have other things to do today; we can’t fall back into bed…as much as I’d like that.”

You moan, frustrated, and he steps back, kissing your lips. “You finish up in here, I’m gonna go change your sheets.” He winks, running a hand down your side and stepping out, grabbing a towel to sling low around his hips.

“I miss you,” you call out longingly, only half-kidding and you peer out from behind the shower curtain.

“I love you,” he replies, meeting your eyes in the mirror and running a comb through his hair. He blows you a kiss and heads back to your bedroom.

You step out of the shower and grab your own towels, one for your hair and the other to wrap yourself in before going to get dressed. You don’t see him but the bed is remade and - “Jesus!” You shriek as he pounces from behind the door and tackles you onto the bed.

“Gotcha.” He grins, his chest against your back and your chest against the bed. His lips move across your neck and his hands curve over your hips, and you can feel him erect against you, even through both of your towels. “Missed you,” he murmurs, pressing hot, wet kisses down your neck and across your shoulder blades.

“Baby,” you sigh, arching your hips against him, pressing against him hard, and he groans, biting your shoulder lightly.

“We gotta, we gotta get up.” He sounds resigned, and you whimper, digging your nails into the bed.

“No.” He can hear the pout in your voice.

“Honey, we gotta. So many things to do.” He pauses. “Okay, two, maybe three, things to do. Max of four. But the sooner they’re done, the sooner we can go home and have dinner and maybe use the hot tub before I take you to bed.” You tilt your head, considering. “Yes, I thought that’d get your attention,” he teases, nuzzling your ear.

“We need to get up.” You press your palms flat against the mattress and push to raise yourself up, and he rolls off of you to let you, laughing a little at how eager you are. “What’s the dress code for the day?” You call out and he makes a thinking noise.

“Well, if time allows and you’re okay with it, I want to run by the school for a little bit. So something you’d run errands in and wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in at school.” He laughs a little. “So no micro-shorts and tube top today m’dear.” You come out in a simple, bright sheath and give him a questioning look. His breath catches a little and you raise an eyebrow. “You look perfect.” He stands, kisses you hard, quickly dresses, and heads to scavenge for breakfast while you blow dry your hair.

“It’s probably gonna be another poptart morning,” you call out and he groans. “Sorry! See this is why I need to move in with you; so I’ll eat adult food.” You laugh a little and twist your now-dry hair into a bun, not having the energy to straighten or curl it. Mascara, a tiny bit of concealer, and a swipe of lipgloss and you’re out the door to meet him in the kitchen.

He presents you with beautiful wheat toast (you forgot you had bread) and a yogurt parfait. “Poptarts will have to wait another day; you actually had some strawberries that were perfect.”

You eat happily, his foot rubbing your calf under the table. You smile at him softly.

“What?” He grins back and you shake your head, just smiling. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking how happy I am and how much I love you. We should go by the school first, so we’re not too tired later. And it’s close by so it would be silly not to,” you point out, gesturing with your toast triangle. He nods, finishing off his parfait.

“If you don’t mind, that sounds good.” You tell him you don’t mind at all; and after you’re both done and the dishes are in the sink, you head out for the school.

-||-

You’re stretched out on the couch in his office, and he looks over at you from behind his desk. “Stop tempting me,” he says in a teasingly commanding voice and you smile, looking over at him. “Honey, you look so good on that couch, I wanna stop finding concert music and just crawl on top of you. God babygirl, you don’t even know.”

You arch an eyebrow at the nickname and roll off of the couch gracefully, crawling over to him and resting your head on his thigh. “Is this a test? Think I won’t do it. Think I won’t suck you off under the desk you fucked me on.”

He groans, caressing your cheek. “It wasn’t a test, it was a slip-up, but god, you’re making it hard,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, “to say no right now. But if I say yes, the rest of our day is shot. So go wait on the couch for me, I won’t be much longer.”

You grin, the rejection not bothering you at all. You know he wants it. You crawl back to the couch and drape yourself along it again, humming along to the various concert pieces he samples. “I like this one,” you comment and he raises his head.

“Yeah?” You nod, tapping your foot. “Yeah this is nice. It features all of the sections and balances well. And it’s Berlioz, so it won’t be ridiculously overdone. Good ear, baby.”

You smile, basking in his praise, raising both hands in triumph. “Victory is mine.”

“‘Tis,” he agrees with a smile, completing the purchase and printing off the master set. “Okay,” he says, as he stands and stretches. “I can run section copies Monday. Finding music was my main stressor. We’re good to go.” You don’t move, you just beckon him over. “Milton, we have to behave,” he says with a knowing smile.

“I just want a kiss.” He stands over you and holds out his hands. You comply, taking them and letting him pull you into his arms. “See? I’m playing nicely. I just want a kiss.” He grins, kissing you softly, parting your lips with his tongue and seeking yours. Your hands grip his hair and you return the embrace, smiling into the kiss. After a moment, you pull back and beam at him. “And I got one. So we can go to your next stop.”

“To the car!” He cries valiantly, slinging an arm around your waist and leading you to the car. You giggle and match his stride, taking his hand eagerly when he moves it from your waist. “Target or Bed Bath and Beyond first?”

You look at him in mock amazement. “You just asked a woman if she wanted to go to Target or somewhere else first.”

“Target. Got it.” He laughs, opening your door when you get back to the car. He presses you against the rear door first, kissing you again. “Missed your lips,” he says as he lets you go and you climb into the car.

You laugh and take his hand once he’s buckled in and ready to go. “I’m not complaining.”

The drive to Target is short and he lists out loud the things he wants to get. “Definitely a new toaster and we’ll need more flatware. And anything else you see,” he grins at you, squeezing your hand.

“This is going to ruin our future wedding registry,” you tell him with a serious look and you both start laughing. “I’m glad we can talk openly about that,” you say after a moment. “Because I do love you. And I absolutely see a future with you.”

He smiles softly. “One hundred percent. You’re it for me. And I’ll wait until you’re ready, but the moment you are, please know I’m going to be down on one knee again, and more prepared this time.” He parks the car and you walk in together, a little stunned when you find it so empty. The parking lot should have been a clue honestly but you were so engrossed with each other you didn’t really notice.

“Okay, toasters.” You lead the way, and he follows, hands still linked. You stop in the aisle, scanning. He stands behind you, arms linked around your waist.

“I like that one,” and he nods towards one on the middle shelf. You study it, nodding. “It holds four slices…” he murmurs, “and has a bagel function,” and his lips catch your earlobe. “And it’s shiny.” He kisses your neck and you giggle.

“You’ve made this toaster sexy.”

“Sounds like a yes to me,” he laughs, and leans forward to put it in your cart. “Let’s see how sexy I can make flatware.”

-||-

You finish at the register and he carries the bags to the car. “Ready for Bed Bath and Beyond?” He smiles, kissing your forehead.

“Hell yeah, I’ve had my eye on that As Seen on TV potato gun.” You grin and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t make that face, you love me.” You beam up at him and he nods, opening your car door.

“I certainly do. And you can have as many potato guns as you want.”

You laugh, taking his hand as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You’re so good to me, Urie.”

He smiles over at you, kissing the back of your hand. “You make me happy.”

“What are we getting here?” You’re curious what Bed Bath and Beyond has that Target didn’t, but you’re not opposed.

“You’re gonna think it’s crazy,” he starts and you give him a look. “I want us to pick out new sheets together. Make it our bed.”

You think you might cry. “That’s not crazy, that’s so sweet. I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s go.” Neither of you can stop smiling and you walk into the store.

“Hi! Do y’all need to register?” The salesgirl is chipper and holding a scanner in her hand.

The two of you exchange a small glance; he looks almost worried and you smile to reassure him. You turn to the girl. “Yes please!” She starts talking about the scanner and hands you the clipboard to start filling out paperwork and he gives you a surprised look. You shrug. “It’ll be fun.”

“I just don’t want you pushing yourself too far, baby.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in to kiss your temple. “It’ll be fun, but we can have fun other ways.”

You give his hand a quick squeeze. “I’m okay. This is okay.” The girl turns back and trades the scanner for the clipboard and gives you two a quick wave. You grin up at him. “Let’s go, baby.”

He follows you with a smile. “I was honestly not listening, how does this thing work?”

You slip the scanner into his hand. “All we have to do is point and click at what we want.” His eyes light up and he starts clicking rapidly, scanner pointed at you. “You’re cute,” you whisper and kiss him.

He smiles and clicks once more. “Let’s figure out our sheets and then we can play with this.”

“Deal.”

You wander the aisles, each clicking at random shit until you reach the sheets aisle. “Here we are, baby.” He squeezes your hand and you survey the selection, running your fingers along the samples.

“Oh my god, Brendon, feel these.” You turn to him with wide eyes, rubbing the sample between your thumb and index finger. He reaches out and nods. “These are so soft,” you marvel. “I mean, your sheets now are amazing, but-“

“These are incredible,” he finishes for you, and you grin. “Are these the ones?” You cast another look along the aisle, walking slowly to feel them. Nothing really compares. You turn back and nod. “Good. I wanna take you home and make love to you in our bed with our sheets.” You slip the scanner from his hand and point at him, clicking. He smiles and grabs two sets, and it’s while you’re reaching out to take one that you hear him.

“Well, aren’t you two the absolute picture of domestic bliss.”

You freeze and the sheets slip from your hands. Your back is to him; you’re facing Brendon and you look up to meet his eyes, hoping you’re wrong, hoping you’re hearing things; Brendon was right, the registry scanning is too much and this is a stress-induced hallucination. But his face gives it away; this is real. His jaw is tight and his eyes are cold. You instinctively step into his outstretched arm, letting him press you to his chest.

“Fuck. Off.” You’ve never heard his voice that tense or his tone so icy.

“Jason, why are you here?” You hate that there’s a tremor in your voice and you know he heard it; he always picks up on the details that make you the most insecure.

“Aw, can’t even look at me? That hurts Y/n.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to say shit to her,” Brendon counters, pulling you behind him. “And you seem to have missed my original comment; fuck off.”

“Why are you here?” Your voice is rising in a panic and you can see him over Brendon’s shoulder. “Why, what the fuck could you possibly -“

“You.”

His stance is relaxed; his eyes neutral. He isn’t aggressive in posture or demeanor right now, but you know it’s a trap. You honestly think Brendon is about to lose his mind; he is trembling all over, but you know it’s with rage and you place one hand on his shoulder. “Well, you’ve wasted your time. I worked hard to get away from you and hell will freeze over before I let you back in my life.”

His eyes soften. “Baby, I know I didn’t treat you right. And I’m sorry for that. I’ll do better. Come home.”

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Brendon’s voice is light, almost like he’s amused or making conversation. He’s still trembling under your fingertips but he’s calmed a little or is at least in more control. “I mean, there’s got to be something clinically wrong with you if you honestly think she’s going to just come back like that. So what the fuck? Help me understand what the fuck is going on in your head.”

Jason lolls against the shelf, almost bored. “She always comes back. Or lets me come back. I’m not too worried.”

Brendon turns to you, tone with the same lighthearted lilt. “I’m going to punch him in the mouth, baby.” You grab his hand and beg him with your eyes. “I’d really like to fucking break his jaw,” Brendon continues, and you shake your head, eyes widening when Jason starts laughing. “Or rip his goddamn throat out. Any of the above would be satisfying.” He smiles at you and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You can’t do this.

“She won’t let you touch me because she knows she always comes back and she wants me looking good for her when she finally comes to her senses and leaves you.”

Something snaps in you and you shoot out from behind Brendon and punch him in the face, hard. Your hand hurts but the stunned look on his face is so satisfying. Brendon is laughing behind you, but he grabs you by the waist when you lunge again. You want to scream, but you can’t make a sound and you struggle against Brendon, frustrated.

“Not a good idea, baby,” he whispers, holding you tight. Jason is rubbing his jaw a little and he gives you a steady glance.

“I’ll let you have that one. We’re even now. But we need to talk Y/n.” He drops a card on top of the sheets nearest him. “Give a call when you’re ready.” He turns to Brendon with a cold stare. “This isn’t me fucking off. This is me choosing to leave.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit, pleased you can finally speak. He just gives a sarcastic wave over his shoulder and walks away. You turn to Brendon, eyes wide and holding your hand to your chest. “Fuck.”

He gives you a grim look and examines your hand. “We need ice on this. Let’s get you home.” He plucks Jason’s card from the shelf and shoves it in his pocket. “Come on, honey.” He picks up both sets of sheets and tucks them under one arm, the other holding you close.

You’re silent until the car, when you look up at him, crying again. “I’m sorry.”

He stares at you. “Why are you sorry?” When Jason asked that after you apologized, it was to humiliate you, to make you recount whatever you had done wrong. Brendon sounds genuinely confused.

You hesitate. “I don’t know. I felt like I had to apologize though.” He looks sad and frustrated, and shakes his head.

“No Y/n. You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for not shutting him up sooner, for leaving it in your hands.” You rest your bruised hand over his on his thigh.

“You don’t need to apologize either. You were trying to keep things civil and be in control. You can’t reason with crazy though.” You flex your fingers a little and wince. “And it felt good… at the time.”

He laughs a little, raising your hand and kissing each knuckle, eyes still on the road. “My fighter. Let’s get you on the couch with some ice on this hand and watch a movie or something to distract us, and then we’ll think about dinner eventually, yes?”

You nod gratefully. “That all sounds really good.”

He glances over at you. “I’m glad you’re moving in with me for a multitude of reasons. One of them being he doesn’t know my address. You are not going over there to pack alone, okay?” His tone is serious and you agree softly. “I love you so much. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Your tears finally dry as he parks in the driveway and leads you inside, settling you on the couch before going for a bag of frozen peas and a dish towel.

“Fifteen minutes on, then take a five minute break. I’ll remind you though.” He slides behind you on the couch and pulls you between his legs to rest against his chest. His arms wrap loosely around your waist and your head drops back on his shoulder. “If you want to just nap, you can do that too, baby,” he whispers and you nod, eyes slipping shut. “Rest, honey. I’ll wake you when it’s time for food.”

You nod again, rolling onto your side, curling into his embrace. “I love you,” you whisper, and he murmurs it back, kissing the top of your head.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: sex, oral sex, language, dirty talk, and I think that might be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“I think we have this sideways,” you laugh and he studies the fitted sheet and looks at the bed.

“You might be right, Milton,” he concedes and the two of you rotate to try again. “Yep. You were right.” You both pull the corners down snugly so the fitted sheet lies smoothly, and he shakes the flat sheet a little so it flares out for you to catch half of it.

“Being right is my third favorite thing,” you tell him, folding the sheet over at the top. He raises an eyebrow.

“What’s your first favorite thing?”

“You,” you answer without hesitation and he laughs a little.

“What’s your second favorite?”

“Fucking you.”

He crawls onto the bed, muttering something that sounds like “fuck the flat sheet” and, leaning over, captures your wrist and tugs lightly - not enough to actually move you but to get your attention.

You laugh and hop onto the bed, stretching out your arms and legs, reveling in the new sheets. “Hey, Urie?” You roll onto your side to look at him. “Aren’t we supposed to wash new sheets before we put them on the bed?”

He’s facing you now too and he smirks, reaching out to brush a finger over your lips. “We’re gonna need to wash them anyway by the time I’m done with you.”

You whimper a little, and press close. “Yeah?”

“Mmmmm,” he agrees, scooting down the bed a little to nibble at your neck. “Gotta christen the new bed after all.”

-||-

“Oh shit,” you gasp, head pressing into the pillow. “Bren, I’m gonna-“ and his tongue flicks out one more time and you come undone with your third. Once you come down from your rush, you look down at him, worried. “You’re sure you feel okay? Your neck isn’t strained or whatever?” He’s been down between your legs for a solid half-hour at least and you love it but you don’t want him hurting.

He grins up at you, dragging his tongue along you as his head pivots up. “Nope. I did some stretches.” You moan and your grip in his hair tightens. “Really?” He smirks and sucks at your inner thigh. “That got you?”

“Urie, you could read the fucking phone book and I’d come for you.”

He laughs, shaking his head a little. “I’m going to remember that, Milton.” He presses back against you, tongue going flat and just stroking you, licking gently; he knows you’re sensitive right now, but he wants to keep you on the edge so when he finally decides to rock into you, you’ll immediately come on him.

“Please, please Brendon, I need more,” you whimper and he nips at your inner thigh, arms curled under your thighs to keep you slightly elevated for him, giving him more room to play, as he told you.

“Tell me what you want, babygirl, I’ll give it to you.” His tongue sneaks out to trace a heart on your skin and you shiver with pleasure. “You know I’ll give it to you so good. You always say I take care of you; let me take care of you now babygirl, just tell me what you need.” He switches thighs, eyes meeting yours as his tongue moves slowly, leaving a warm, wet trail and your breath catches in your throat. He looks up and your lips are parted wordlessly so he fills in the blanks. “You want my fingers?” You shake your head a little, biting your lip and your eyes fluttering shut. “You want more tongue?” You consider, but shake your head. “You want my cock?” His voice is soft and knowing.

“Fuck,” you whisper, finally finding your own voice. “Yes, please.”

“How do you want it, honey?” He’s working his way up over you and you can feel the warm weight of his erection resting against your lower stomach and pelvis; he’s already shining at the tip. “You want me to get you on your hands and knees, face buried in a pillow to muffle your screams when I fuck you hard from behind? Or do you want me to hold you close and just rock in and out, loving you slow and steady, whispering sweet things? Or do you wanna climb on top of me and ride me while I play with those fantastic breasts as you rock back and forth and slide up and down on my dick? No, I don’t think you want that though; you want to get fucked, not do the fucking and that’s okay too babygirl. You just tell me how you want it and I’ll take care of the rest.” You’re both breathing hard; his filthy monologue affecting you both.

You stammer a little in the beginning but manage. “I want you to bend me over your dresser and take me from behind like you did when we fucked in your office.”

He inhales sharply and bites your neck before whispering in your ear, voice a low growl. “Oh Milton, baby, you little freak. Fucking love you. Get over there.” He rolls off of you and you crawl off the bed, legs a little shaky. You make it to the dresser though and place your palms flat on it, bending at the waist, waiting for him. “So pretty, baby.” He groans as he strokes over himself, just watching you. Finally, he pulls himself upright and off the bed, making his way over.

You see him in the mirror before you feel him, but then his lips are on your neck and both hands are lifting and cupping your breasts as he pushes against you. You plant your feet to push back against him, and then he’s inside you and god, you can’t stop the noises you’re making. Your fingers are spread wide on the dresser and he moves one hand to lie over it and interlock, while his other hand slips down to hold your hip. “It’s never been like this before,” you tell him, meeting his eyes and rolling back against him. “Not with anyone else, only you, fuck.”

He nods, squeezing your hand and slipping his hand from your hip to rest against you, angling his fingers so he slides under them smoothly while he seeks out your clit. “Wanna make you come,” he murmurs, tongue teasing your earlobe before letting it flick up and back against a spot behind your ear, grinning against your skin when you gasp in pleasure.

“I told you,” you moan between breaths, “you could read the phone book and I’d come.” He chuckles and rubs your clit lightly, nuzzling the crook of your neck.

“As sexy as that sounds, I think I’ll just fuck you instead if that’s okay,” he drawls, and you nod eagerly, spreading your legs a little more, making his finger slip and rub you messily. You whimper his name, and he does it again, this time with purpose and you can feel your fourth. He can tell and whispers in your ear how beautiful you look when you’re about to come, how much he loves feeling you clamp down around him as you fall over the edge, usually pulling him with you. “Can’t wait for it babygirl, coming in you is like nothing else; fucking love it.”

You moan at his words and circle your hips a bit, and he takes the hint, shifting so the head of his cock rubs exactly where you want him. “Yeah Urie, right there, fuck me right there,” you gasp, your free hand curling around the edge of the dresser and you squeal when he moves his hand from yours to pinch a nipple quickly and thrust his hips hard. You tip your head back on his shoulder and give a low moan as you crumple around him.

“No, no baby, gotta stay up for me,” he groans, dropping the hand at your breast to wrap around your waist. You clutch feebly at the dresser and try to keep your shaking legs under you, but he senses the struggle and pulls out of you before grabbing your hips and pulling you backwards onto the bed, crawling on top of you and, at your desperate nod, sliding back into you, hitching a thigh up over his hip. “Give me thirty seconds, honey,” he whispers, thrusting hard a few times before you feel him spilling into you with a tight moan. He slumps down and there’s a sheen of sweat over both of you.

“We need to wash the sheets,” you moan feebly and he laughs, dropping his head down next to yours.

“We’ve got time. Let me just lie here with you for a minute.”

-||-

A minute turns to an hour turns to what must have been a night because you wake up and he’s rolled off of you but has pulled you close to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat and the warmth of his skin. He whispers something and stretches, smiling down at you when he’s able to open his eyes.

-||-

If this is how every Sunday is for the rest of your life, you will be happy, you muse at the end of the day, curling into him with a copy of Gatsby as he watches BOA qualifier videos from last year with a glass of bourbon in his hand and his other arm draped across your shoulders. He’s grazing your chest every now and then with a flirty smile and a kiss to the top of your head.

You pause for a moment, closing your book and looking up at him. When he glances down and sees you looking, he grins. “What’s on your mind, Milton?”

You shrug a little. “I think we should probably tell our students about us tomorrow. Before the rumors get any more out of hand.”

He makes a surprised noise and runs his hand through the length of your hair. “I’m totally fine with that if you are.” You shrug again, biting your lip.

“They’re talking already, and maybe if we just admit it, they’ll focus on their work,” you reason and he smiles.

“You don’t need to justify or logically explain it; we want people to know we’re in love and that’s all there is to it.” He has a decisive tone in his voice and you smile. “What do you want to say? How much do you want them to know?”

You smirk and look up at him seriously. “I was going to tell them IUDs are great because you have fucked me so good in so many places and have come in me so often that I should definitely be pregnant, but I’m not because of that lil device and I strongly recommend them.”

He shakes his head, laughing. “Honey, if you don’t want to work anymore, all you gotta do is say so. You don’t have to get yourself fired,” he teases, kissing the top of your head before running his hand through your hair.

You giggle and preen, rolling into his touch, and you both sigh contentedly. You break the silence after a moment. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about telling them,” you admit. He nods.

“I know. But it’ll be fine. I promise.” He sips the last of his drink, and you turn in his arms to kiss him, tongue flicking out into his mouth.

“Nope, still don’t like bourbon,” you murmur against his lips. “But you make it taste a whole lot better.” You moan a little when he sets the glass to the side and puts both hands on either side of your face and kisses you so softly, so sweetly - you want to just melt into him. He moves one hand, now that he’s got you as close as he likes and runs it over your back as his lips caress yours. “Fucking love how you kiss,” you whisper, shivering with pleasure. He pulls back a little, teasing your lower lip before releasing and looking at you inquisitively.

“What do you mean?” His voice is low and his eyes are dark; you don’t need to slip a hand down to palm him to know he wants you, but you do anyway and he groans a bit, rocking into your hand.

“You just…this is gonna sound dumb; you make love to my mouth with yours. You start so soft, lips just touching mine, and you pull me close and your mouth is moving so good over mine and you nudge my lips apart the way you do my thighs, and then you’re teasing me more, tip of your tongue sliding along my lower lip, like your fingers do when you get my legs spread. And sometimes that’s all, just sweet and a little bit of a tease, but other times you go all in, tilting your head to get as close to me as you can and your lips are still so soft but you’re firmer, and your tongue isn’t invading my mouth and fighting mine the way some people kiss, your tongue is an eager visitor and it’s like…it’s like you can’t get enough of me and you’re just so…god, you know what you’re doing. You get me hot with just a kiss,” you admit, reaching out and brushing a fingertip over his lips and he smiles against it, kissing it softly, letting his tongue slip out and tease it. “Like that,” you sigh, “you just know what you’re doing. You don’t take any of it for granted; you kiss with purpose and intention. Even a kiss goodbye, it’s not rushed; you make me feel like you’re taking me in, breathing me in, as much as you possibly can until you’ll see me again. You make me feel wanted.”

His hand runs through your hair to the back of your head and brings you close. “Milton, baby, you are so wanted. I crave you all the time. The first time we kissed, I knew that I’d never kiss anyone else if I had it my way. You’re equal parts soft, compliant, and intense, fervent. You want it just as bad as I do, but you just sort of meld with me, letting me taste and tease and explore your mouth. You’re not afraid to take control; you’ll crawl into my lap and kiss me hard until we can’t breathe, but you’ll also let me lead while still being fully engaged; you’re letting me run the show but you’re an active participant; the way your tongue meets mine for the first time in each kiss, it’s like - god it’s so cliche - it’s like fireworks.” He pauses and shakes his head. “No, I can do better than that, that’s not nearly enough to describe you.” He kisses you again and he coaxes your lips apart to slip his tongue into your mouth; you both moan and clutch at each other, and when he pulls back, his eyes are shining. “It’s like…kissing you is like chasing a storm. And when I can finally taste you, it’s a bolt of lightning striking the ground in front of me; everything in me is jolted and comes alive, electric, and it’s a rolling crash of thunder, shaking me to my core and hitting me deep, making me want to follow that storm to the edge of the earth to feel like that once more. I’m caught in the rain but it’s a warm summer rain, hard and sensual and the rain people watch from their porch with a cup of tea. It’s the rain that permeates through you in an instant, but you’re not cold; you’re just living in that moment, each drop of rain one more sharp reminder of how glad you are to be alive and be where you are, and the thunder and lightning just keep coming, surrounding you, overwhelming you, and you feel so lucky to have chased this storm, this complex force of nature, this absolute work of art.” He’s breathing hard and his hand is in your hair and you’re resting your foreheads against each other; you’re rapt, listening to him describe you.

“Fucking love you,” you whisper before kissing him gently, lingering in the moment.

“Fucking love you,” he returns, his voice a deep growl and his hand, the one not in your hair, slides down your back and finds your hip, letting him rock up into you, mixing your gasp of pleasure with his own. “Can I take you to bed, babygirl?”

“Fuck, Brendon, please.”

-||-

Warm. Wet. Slick. Hot. God, you pray, don’t let me wake up from this, not yet. But your eyelids flutter open and you turn to one side, the feelings from the dream lingering, and the early hour in LED lighting burns into your mind. Warm. Wet. Slick. Hot. You jerk a little, realizing this isn’t a dream, and his hands curve up over your thighs to hold you down.

“It’s okay babygirl, it’s just me.” His voice is rough, and he nuzzles your inner thigh. “Wanted to start your day off right,” he pauses to lick over you once, a long firm sweeping stroke, “get you feeling so good, get all the tension out now before what could be a stressful day, get you feeling so pliant and relaxed that - yeah baby, just lean back and let me make you feel good, spread those legs for me, you’re so good,” and his head is back between your thighs and you let go, give in, one hand resting in his hair and the other teasing your breasts, switching between rolling and tugging at your nipples and just caressing, your strokes over yourself matching the pace he’s setting, letting you roll over his face. “Fucking love,” he gasps, “the way you hump my face when I’m licking and sucking your gorgeous pussy,” he finishes with a sharp breath. One of his hands is still on your thigh but the other has slipped down to join his tongue, alternating between thrusting into you and spreading you for him, letting his tongue cover every slick part of you. You moan and he flips his hair back out of his face. “Fuck honey, keep making those sounds for me and I’ll be coming all over myself just from listening to how hot you are for me.”

You can’t hold back the whimper that slips out when his hand moves under to lift you slightly, letting his tongue cover more of you, licking and stroking and teasing.

“Hand me that other pillow,” he tells you, his voice muffled by your heat, and you do. “Up,” he orders, and you know what he wants so you raise your hips for him to place the pillow under you and get a better angle. You spread wider, and he grins, his lips and chin shiny with you. “Yeah babygirl, open those pretty legs and let me eat you til you’re coming on my face and tongue, please let me feel you come hard on my tongue, you know how much I love that.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching your back and he pushes in deeper, tongue sliding in and out roughly. “Fingers, fuck, Brendon, fingers,” you beg and he moans into you, rocking two fingers into you slowly. “More,” you insist, eyes shut. “Give me more, I can take three.”

“Jesus,” he gasps and gives you what you ask for, letting his index and ring finger form a triangle of sorts over his middle finger. “Fucking do it baby, come on me, start your Monday right by coming on your man’s face,” he groans, dropping his wrist so he can let the tip of his tongue fly over your clit while his fingers fuck you hard.

You let out a sharp squeal and obey, and it’s a rush of heat and he’s moaning so happily, tongue sliding over you sloppily to get as much as he can. “Such a good girl, coming for me,” he practically purrs, “and so sweet, should have you for dessert later tonight too.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, chest rising and falling and your hands are gripping the sheets. He crawls up over you and you grab his head, kissing him hard, tongue flicking out to taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You can’t help but moan and he nods against your lips.

“Yeah honey, you taste that good. Can’t keep my head out from between those pretty thighs, damn.” You moan again and he moves his lips down your neck and collarbone. “We probably need to shower,” he whispers and you whine when his lips leave your skin.

“Fine,” you pout and he rolls off of you to stand next to the bed. He extends a hand and you take it, a little unsteady on your legs. “Made me come too hard, Bren. Carry me?” You look up at him hopefully and he grins, sweeping you into his arms.

“Let’s get cleaned up so we can start all over tonight. Although…” he hesitates and you look at him, puzzled. “You can shower. I wanna have you on my fingers and lips all day, reminding me who I have coming home with me at night, who I’m gonna make love to until we both pass out.”

-||-

“You can shower. I wanna have you on my fingers and lips all day, reminding me who I have coming home with me at night, who I’m gonna make love to until we both pass out.”

His words are echoing in your head the rest of the morning, and you’re jolted out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. The kids jump a little too, they were fifteen minutes into their Silent Sustained Writing, each of them enthusiastically, some more facetiously than others, recalling their favorite day of school. You cross to the door and open it, only half-surprised to see the floral arrangement of pink peonies - he had hinted he’d do something like this as he leaned against his bathroom counter, watching you shower.

Tyler again, with a knowing smile. “Ms. Milton, these were delivered for you.” There’s a chorus of “oooohs” from behind you and you grimace, but gratefully accept the bouquet. Tyler waves to Jessica behind you and you shut the door with a grin.

“Thank you Tyler, she’ll see you later.” You turn, slipping the card from its holder. Your fingers toy with it, turning it over and over. To open it or not open it? Your students have five more minutes of writing; you have time. You slide a finger under the flap and lift, pulling the creamy cardstock out.

“Don’t let your students talk you into reading this out loud. I’m thinking about our last kiss, the way you taste-“ you flip the card over and close your eyes. You know exactly what kiss he’s talking about, and it’s certainly not innocent enough and you know your students would pick up on that. “-and I can’t wait to see you tonight. Don’t panic. It’ll be fine. I love you.”

“What does it say?”

You’re still staring at the card so you’re not sure who asked. “Hm? Oh. Nothing.”

Eric grins. “They sent you flowers and a blank card?” Brian nudges him and they mutter something to each other.

“Gentlemen, knock it off. No, it’s not blank. They’re from Mr. Urie and - stop,” you point at Jessica with a knowing smile. “Stop or I won’t tell you anything else.” You wait and they all sit back, eyes wide, clearly intrigued. “Why are you not this engaged with Coleridge? Never mind. Mr. Urie and I have been seeing each other for some time now and are official and exclusive and labeled and whatever else I can say to make it clear he’s my boyfriend.” You hold your breath and wait. The class processes this for a moment before erupting. Some are cheering and a few of the girls look enraptured, Jessica is asking a million questions, and Eric is handing Brian a twenty. “You bet on us?” You ask both of them, a little incredulous, and they nod shamelessly. “What was the bet?”

Brian slips the cash in his pocket. “I said you’d be together before homecoming. Eric said after homecoming but before prom.”

You just smile to yourself and hold up both hands. “Okay, I can’t dedicate any more class time to this today; I know you have a ton of questions so just write them down and turn them in, l’ll answer the appropriate ones tomorrow instead of giving you a quiz on today’s material; your focus is going to be shot anyway.” They cheer again and every pen is flying as they scrawl down questions. You shudder to think what some of them will be.

When the period ends and second block kids come in, it’s clear that the phone tree has been at work and he’s told his first block; several of them are already asking questions. You make the same deal with them in the attempts of keeping them on task, but they’re definitely more preoccupied with this news. At least they’re all excited, you reason, recognizing that he is definitely the hottest male teacher at the school and more than just the freshmen in band think so. You wonder how they took it in class - you both agreed in the car on what to say and both promised to talk to all of your classes. Poor girls, you muse, as you pace the room checking annotations. Having their hearts broken so early in the morning.

It takes everything you have not to dash out of your room and down to his the moment the bell rings, but you force yourself to slow down. You wait until your room is empty and then leave, keeping yourself and your pace in check. You knock on his door and he opens it, a wide smile on his face.

“Milton darling, light of my life, love of my heart,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you and kissing you softly. “How did your group take it?”

You snuggle into his chest, wrapping your arms around him tightly and tucking your head under his chin. “They were excited. A lot of questions. I told them to write down their questions and I’d answer the appropriate ones, so you and I have a date tonight sorting questions,” you grin. “And yours? How were the freshmen?”

He looks solemn. “Mostly great, but the freshmen girls cried a little.”

You fight back a peal of laughter and look up at him seriously. “Are they going to be okay?”

He shrugs. “Probably. Let me know if they do or say anything to you though.” He pulls away from the embrace to lead you into his office. He drops onto the couch and you collapse beside him, sighing contentedly when he drops his arm around your shoulder. “What’s next on your agenda for planning?” He asks, and you groan.

“I actually have a ton to do, I just wanted to come see you,” you admit and he squeezes you gently before standing.

“Let’s get you back to your room then,” he says with a soft smile. He extends and hand and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet and into him for another hug. He breathes in the scent of your hair and runs a hand over your back. After a moment, he pulls away and takes your hand again, leading you to the hallway and then to your room.

“Feels good to hold your hand like this,” you murmur. “Not having to hide entirely.”

He nods, and once you reach your classroom, he brushes his lips over yours - just barely touching. “I just want everyone to know how I feel about you,” he whispers, and you lean up against your doorframe, holding both of his hands. “But you said I couldn’t rent out that billboard, right?” He grins and you shake your head, laughing. “So I’ll hold your hand and tell every person I meet about my beautiful, wonderful girlfriend and I’ll show them photos of you and us until they beg me to stop - which they won’t, because you, m’dear, are breathtaking.” He grins, and you roll your eyes, embarrassed. “No honey, don’t roll your eyes. Accept it.” You’re still in your doorway and all you want to do is drag him into your room and shut the door so you can kiss him properly, but you agreed, the school rendezvous would stop to keep you both safe. He must see it in your eyes because he licks his lower lip and he must be able to taste you because he gives the quietest, shortest moan of pleasure and it sends waves of desire through you.

“Dang it Urie, you know I want you,” you hiss and he smiles innocently.

“Call it four more hours to be safe,” he tells you, “and you’ll be home with me and we can play however you want.”

You grin. “What if I don’t want to play at home, what if I want you to take me out now that we’re official, or at least officially out at school?”

He laughs a little. “We can do that too. Whatever you want, Milton. I’ll make it happen.” You squeeze both of his hands and he kisses your forehead chastely. “Go get work done. It’s an abbreviated practice today, so I’ll come to you at the final bell.” You nod and he smiles once more and leaves you in your doorway, watching him walk away.

-||-

You’re sitting at your normal spot in the lounge, picking at the grilled chicken he packed for both of you, distracted by his promise of whatever you want, when Gina sails into the lounge and drops into the seat across from you - her normal spot. “So Ms. Milton,” she says with a grin. “I heard something from a student today.” You look up and she is practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “I heard,” she draws it out, “that you and Urie are a thing.”

Jennifer walks in and adds, “oh yeah, I heard that too!”

Helen turns the corner. “Heard what?”

“Y/n and Urie are dating.” Jennifer is giddy and Helen nods.

“Yep, a freshman girl was crying about it at the beginning of 3rd block.”

Gina leans forward, jabbing the air with her fork. “Spill.”

You shrug. “What do you want to know?” There’s a pause as your coworkers consider.

Finally, Gina speaks. “When, where, how, and how often?” You blink, obviously thrown by the last question. She huffs indignantly. “When did he ask, where did he ask, how did he ask, and how often do you make out? The man is gorgeous.”

You laugh a little. “We’ve been together for…” you try to calculate. “About two months I think, maybe a little more. And we kissed on the band tower and it just sort of rolled from there, we just fell naturally into things. And I plead the fifth on the last question.”

Helen shakes her head. “Nuh uh. We want details. We are old married women-“ she waves down the others’ protests; “and the man is more than gorgeous and you’ve kept this a secret this long so we deserve details.”

The others agree and Gina smirks. “How often Milton?” You feel yourself blush and you know she can read it on your face. “Oh my god, you’ve slept with him.” There’s a clamor from everyone else, demanding more and you press both hands to your face, embarrassed. “No no no, we’re not judging,” Gina is quick to reassure. “Hell, some of us are jealous. Just give me this - is he good?”

You can’t help but smile. “Incredible.”

Jennifer groans and stabs at her salad. “You can’t just leave it at that, Richard must be on some speed challenge because we’re over and done in eight minutes and then he’s knocked out, dead asleep.”

You try to not look horrified. You don’t know what you’d do if you only had him for eight minutes. “I mean…he’s just incredible. He’s so good at being in control-“ there’s an outbreak of chatter but Gina waves them down; “-but he’ll just…he’s…I don’t know, I’ve never been with anyone like him before.”

Tracy, who has come in late but has figured out from context, grins. “I’ll be the one to be rude and ask; as the youth say, what that mouth do though?” You blush and she amends. “His, not yours. I’m not interested in the details of what your mouth does, no offense.” She smirks and pops an almond in her mouth. “Well? With the lips on that man…”

You shift in your chair a little. “He is…” you want to say this diplomatically. “He is not a selfish lover; he prefers to give more than receive and he is quite, quite good at what he gives.” You fold your hands primly and the others sit silently for a moment before the questions explode again.

Gina takes your side finally. “Okay okay okay, you hussies, you’ve gotten your scandalous sex details, now let the girl eat her lunch.” You smile at her gratefully. “She obviously needs to keep her strength up, if she’s receiving as often as I think she is.” She finishes with a smirk of her own. So much for being on your side. You don’t really mind; they don’t mean any harm; they’re just curious. But as open and free you are with Brendon in your bed, you’re as reserved and cautious outside of it. You’ve never been one to swap sex stories, and these women seem to want more than you’re willing to give up. They take Gina’s direction though and eat their own lunch while asking much more socially appropriate questions, like where your first date was, for the rest of the lunch period.

The lunch bell rings and you head back to your room, desperate to get more work done so you can focus on him tonight. When you approach your desk, there’s a single, long-stemmed pink rose resting across your keyboard with a card under it. “First, you forgot to lock your door, honey. Second, be as productive as you can so I can have you all to myself tonight; I have big ideas. Third, you need a vase for your classroom; I’m going to make a habit of sending you flowers. Let’s get a vase soon. I love you.” You smile, brushing your fingertips over the petals and sigh happily.

“So you like it?”

“Jesus Christ!” You shriek and drop the rose, and he’s crossing the room, apologizing, taking you in his arms, kissing the top of your head.

“That wasn’t nice, I’m sorry, love.” He’s smoothing a hand over your back, and holding you tight.

“That,” you gasp, “wasn’t only not nice; that was mean.” But you’re laughing a little so he knows you’re not too upset.

“You’re right, I’m sorry baby.” He sits you on your desk and steps between your legs, kissing your forehead. “We’ll do whatever you want tonight.”

Your eyes narrow. “That was already the deal Urie. I’m gonna need something more.”

He pretends to think. “Something more, hm?” You nod and he grins before biting his lower lip in a way he knows drives you crazy. “Why don’t we see where the night goes, and I’ll let you use your something more whenever you see fit, whether it be tonight or down the road.”

You nod again, crossing your arms. “I want to do something totally strange and out of the ordinary tonight.” He arches an eyebrow and smirks a little. “Not sexually, Urie. As a date.”

He laughs and kisses your cheek. “I can do that. Strange and out of the ordinary and nothing sexual. Got it.”

-||-

“Urie, I need a dress code please.”

He follows you into the closet. “I’m honestly not trying to be difficult when I say I don’t know and that you look gorgeous in anything.” You smile, leaning back against his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist. “So I’ll tell you that I’m wearing dark jeans that could pass for nicer pants as needed and a button-down shirt.”

“Urie, what are we doing?” Your voice is muffled as lean forward and pull your shirt off over your head. He moves his hands up to cup your breasts and his head drops down to your neck.

“I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass when I say I don’t know,” he repeats with a smile against your skin. “But I don’t know.” You’re on the edge and he can tell. “Okay. Have you heard of,” and he pauses for dramatic effect, “the penny date?” You turn to look at him quizzically and shake your head. He beams. “Great. We need to pick a number between-“

“One hundred and thirty-six.”

“-one and fifty…” he gives you his teacher look. “I don’t know if…”

You turn fully in his arms to kiss him firmly. “One hundred. And. Thirty-six.”

He shrugs. “Okay, well, let’s head to the car then. But in an hour, remember this moment.”

You’re settled in the car when you look at him. “You never explained more. What’s the date? Why the number?”

He grins, putting the car in reverse. “We flip a coin to decide which way we turn. And the number picked is the number of times we flip.”

You groan. “I regret some stuff,” you tell him and he laughs. “But we’re sticking with the number,” you say firmly. “We commit.” He takes your hand and smiles.

“We sure do.”

-||-

“Brendon, we’ve been circling this neighborhood for 30 flips.” You sound exhausted. He nods wearily. “But we committed.” You can hear the question in your voice.

“We committed. We’ve got 6 more flips to go, let’s see if we can’t get out of here.”

You nod, squeezing his hand and flipping the coin as you approach a stop sign. “Left.” Silence. Stop sign. “Left.” Silence. Silence. Stop sign. “Right!” You haven’t gotten a right in a while and this is promising. Silence. Stop sign. “Left…” Silence. Stop sign. “Right.” Silence. Silence. Silence. Stop sign. “Left.”

He stops the car and you both start laughing. You’re parked outside a house - or what will be a house once it’s fully built. Right now it’s a frame and some plywood makeshift walls. “Well, this is our date,” he says dead-pan. He turns to you. “We can go get food?”

You point at him playfully. “Only if we get something from a drive thru and come back. We committed.” He notes the address of the closest completed house and you search google for drive thrus near your location. “Sonic?” You suggest and he nods. “Yay! I’ve been craving mozzarella sticks.” You’re wiggling in your seat excitedly and his hand curves over your thigh.

“We don’t have to commit; we can go get real food and go back to our complete house,” he tells you and you give him a surprised look.

“No sir. We’re going back and we’re going to have a wonderful time doing who knows what. I don’t need a fancy formal date to enjoy myself with you, so let’s go get greasy Sonic food and slushies and go see what possibilities that house has.”

Food acquired and GPS on, you’re back at the construction site in twenty minutes. He parks the car and you both get out. You’ve got a carton of mozzarella sticks and a strawberry limeade slush, while he opted for tots and blue raspberry. You interlock arms as you stroll through what would be the door and look around. “Wow,” you whisper, and he nods. It’s unfinished obviously but it’s going to be beautiful when it’s done. You’re standing in what will be a two-story foyer and you can see what you assume is a sunken living room through an opening ahead. You wander around together, trading snacks, sharing sticky, stained-lip kisses, and trying to guess what different rooms will be, decorating as you go. The living room is going to have a great leather sectional, one that you wouldn’t mind getting Brendon naked on so you can ride him. You shake your head a little to clear it before he comes back inside. There’s a dumpster outside so he pitched your empty trash and is back quickly, holding you to him.

“I’d do a soft blue paint in here I think,” he murmurs in your ear when you make it to the master suite. “The windows are set up to let the sunrise in, and it would be really lovely. Carpet or hardwood?” You consider.

“Hardwood is easier to clean but carpet is nicer for the morning…unless we did hardwood with an area rug under the bed. But still - I’m not sure, maybe hardwood?”

He nods thoughtfully. “Do a dark hardwood floor and a pale ceiling to draw the eye upward; then you can have a floor rug in an accent color.” You marvel at him, telling him how good he is at this. “Again, my parents. My mom was big on making places both homey and beautiful. They two, she always said, weren’t mutually exclusive. And my dad let her do what she wanted; he told her she had a vision and he had a checkbook.” Brendon laughs a little and you smile as he leans down and kisses your cheek. “I can’t promise you that kind of financial freedom,” he murmurs, “but you’ll have that kind of love and devotion.”

You melt a little and turn to face him, kissing him softly and moaning a little when his tongue parts your lips. He scoops you up easily and you wrap your legs around him as he presses you against the wall. He deepens the kiss and you tug at his hair, wanting to be closer.

“Let’s keep looking,” he pulls away with a gasp and his words are rough. “Gotta stop teasing myself.” Your feet touch the floor and you continue your exploration of the space. There’s an opening to a room off of the master suite that is too big to be a bathroom or a closet so you take turns guessing. “Sex chamber,” he finally suggests with a smirk. This is for those people who have big stuff like swings and wedges and stuff, things you can’t tuck in a bedside table.”

“Wedges?” You look perplexed.

“Mmmm,” he purrs, pulling you back flush against him and letting his fingers wander down to tease the button on your jeans. “Wedges. Sturdy but comfortable foam wedges that you, m’dear, would rest on instead of a pillow. Depending on the wedge, you’d have a variety of angles for me to fuck or suck you at.” You moan a little when you feel him hard against you and he licks the shell of your ear. “You want one, baby? You want me to be able to get those pretty hips tipped up and good and ready for my tongue or cock, depending on your mood? I’ll buy you one, if that’s what you want.” You nod weakly and his fingers slip down the front of your jeans. You know you’re wet and now he does too - you both let out a sharp moan when he makes contact, fingers sliding against you easily. “Let’s go back to the car,” he suggests lowly, and you nod eagerly.

He opens your door for you and you slide in, but as soon as he’s seated, you’re clambering over the console to straddle him. “You’ve got me so hot Bren, can’t wait any longer.” You kiss him and start grinding against him, delighted to find him still hard for you. “Am I hurting you?” Your voice is soft and he shakes his head, but shifts you over so you’re straddling his thigh, one of yours brushing his erection. You moan and rock against him, and he grabs you by the hair and slips his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours and teasing you. His other hand slips up your shirt and is caressing and cupping your breast, squeezing lightly every now and then; you know it must turn him on because even with his jeans on, you can feel his dick flex against your thigh whenever he gropes you. He tugs your hair a little and you moan, grinding down harder in sloppy circles, the friction working your clit.

“Love seeing you like this, babygirl, knowing you’re gonna come all over my thigh, knowing I drive you wild, knowing you can feel how wild you make me. Wanna be in you, wanna see you come all over me, wanna slip my hand down into those sexy lace panties I watched you put on this morning and get my fingers covered in you, so I can have an appetizer for the ride until I can get you back to our bed and spread you out, get you moaning my name,” he pauses breathing hard and you whimper, bracing yourself on his shoulders to get more leverage. You’re close.

“Wanna come for you,” you tell him, barely able to keep your eyes open as he flexes his thigh under you, making you yelp at the new sensation. “Wanna come all over you,” you practically insist. “Gotta get these pants off, shit,” and you’re mumbling under your breath as his lips close over the pulse point in your neck.

“God babygirl, so good,” he whispers, tugging your hair again. “Leave the pants on, wanna see you come for me, fully clothed.”

You start a slow grind, leaning back a little, giving in to his pull. “Gonna,” you insist. “Oh fuck, Brendon, baby, I can feel it I’m almost - oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry, and he bites your neck; your orgasm only intensifies. “Oh fuck,” you squeal, slumping back against the wheel and making both of you jump when the horn gives a short blast.

“So sexy to watch babygirl, love seeing you come for me.” You’ve moved forward and are resting your head on his shoulder while his hand moves slowly over your back.

He freezes after a minute. “Hey baby?” You make a small noise, acknowledging him. “Remember how I said I’d agree to three conditions with the babygirl thing?” You make another small noise. “Figured out which one I couldn’t agree to,” he says, sounding a little nervous. “Need you to get back in your seat honey.”

You lift your head and your vision is blurred with blue and white flashing lights. “Aren’t you glad we kept your pants on?” He says with an anxious tone.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: getting caught arguably, language, dirty talk, toys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3
> 
> Y'all I am so bad about updating my AO3; I swear I'm not writing 4 chapters in one night - I just forget to update them here. Tumblr gets my updates faster (arguably; they have to wait between chapters whereas AO3 is sort of a binge).

“Fuck,” you hiss, scrambling back to your seat moments before there’s a tap at his window. He rolls it down and you hold your breath.

“License and registration please.” Fuck.

“There a problem officer?”

“Neighbors reported a car circling the neighborhood for a while, leaving, and then,” he checks the police report printout, “coming back with purpose. Your car matches the description given and you’re parked outside a construction site.”

Brendon nods. “I’m going to get my license now and my girlfriend is going to get the registration from the glove box.” He looks at you reassuringly. “If you would, honey.” You lean forward and pass the paper over to him; he passes both to the officer. “Officer, there’s really a simple explanation for this-“ he begins but the officer holds up a finger, examining Brendon’s license.

“Urie? Aren’t you the band teacher at the high school?”

Brendon nods and you wince. You know he couldn’t lie, but now this is connected to the school. It was nice having jobs, while it lasted.

“You said there was a simple explanation?” The officer looks at you both expectantly. “My niece is in band and she raves about you.” Your shoulders drop in relief. You’re not totally fucked. Brendon’s do too, and he explains the penny date. The officer looks bemused. “Maybe in the future, stick to public areas and not neighborhoods, regardless of where a coin tells you to go,” he suggests with a grin. His face turns serious for moment and he leans back down. “And ma’am?” He meets your eyes and looks away swiftly, embarrassed. “You might want to zip your pants before you get wherever you’re headed next. I remember being young, but it’s best to just save all of that for a bedroom.” Fuck. He walks away and Brendon bursts out laughing, leaning over to zip up your jeans. You’re frozen in shock, or maybe horror, or maybe both and can’t move.

The lights turn off and the officer drives away. “Fuck,” you gasp, and it feels like you’ve been holding your breath this entire time. He nods, rubbing your thigh soothingly.

“I know. But he didn’t see anything other than this,” and his fingers brush over your zipper, “so there’s no danger there, and we’re not in any trouble for trespassing or loitering or whatever he could have used as charges.” He kisses your cheek softly. “Let’s go home, yeah?” You nod, slumping back in your seat, your heart rate finally dropping back to normal. He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles gently. “And if I recall, we have some questions from your students to answer.”

-||-

You’re sitting next to each other on his couch, reading through the questions and you toss a half sheet of notebook paper on the growing pile without comment and grab the next one. You groan and add it to the same pile.

“Am I allowed to ask what that pile is?”

“Nope.”

He leans forward and plucks the most recent one and reads it out loud. “How big is it?” He grins, dropping the paper. “Charming. Are all of those in that same vein?” You nod and he smirks, pulling you into his lap. “You should tell them eleven and a half.”

You laugh, wiggling back against him. “Yeah, that would go over well. Let me just tell all of my students how big my boyfriend’s dick is.”

He shrugs. “Kids talk loud, I hear girls who are way too young to be having sex discussing how they don’t ‘fuck with less than eight,’ so we might as well perpetuate their - ha - pipe dream.”

“Loudly,” you murmur, flipping through the rest of the questions. He pokes your side and gives you a confused look. “Kids talk loudly; you said kids talk loud.”

He groans, biting your neck lightly. “That’s what you got from that?” You giggle and roll your head to one side, giving him more access and he moves his lips up along your skin, suckling behind your ear. “Or, better plan. You tell them it’s two inches. That’ll really crush them and send them into an identity crisis; how could they find me so attractive,” you groan playfully, “okay, rude -find me so attractive when my dick is so small?”

“Or,” you suggest in a low voice, leaning forward a little to reach your hand back and cup him, “we just don’t say anything and let them think what they want to think.”

He scoffs jokingly. “That sounds responsible and boring and we don’t get to talk about my dick.”

You laugh, slipping out of his lap and to the floor, resting your head on his thigh. “We can talk about your dick, Urie. You and I, we can talk about it all night. We can discuss how you fill my mouth, how you fuck me so well, how much I love running my tongue over you, and how good it feels to just grind over you when you’re really hard and your head rubs against my clit so nicely…” you let your hand graze over his thigh before going back and stroking him through the sweatpants he’s changed into. “Or we could not talk about it and experience it instead.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and you slip your hand down under the waistband, curling your fingers around him.

“Yeah?” You whisper, moving your hand slowly and licking your lips.

“Yeah,” he nods, and pulls you back up on top of him so you’re facing and straddling him. “Want a repeat performance of the car, baby. And now that we’re not in jeans, you can rub up on what you really want.” His fingers tease your core through your leggings.

You pause, giving him a weird look. “You don’t wanna just fuck?”

He laughs, pressing his fingers against you. “Oh trust me, we’re going to fuck. But I wanna see you come like this first,” he murmurs, rocking his hips up against you. “Like some goddamn fantasy, having you fully clothed, riding my thigh, rubbing against my dick, grinding and moaning. Reminds me of our first night together. Remember?”

You undo his belt and recenter yourself over him so his hardness is pressing the inner seam of your ankle pants right against your clit. His tongue is moving sloppily over your neck and down to the swell of your breasts and you groan, letting your head fall back as he teases your nipples with his tongue.“I’m gonna, holy fuck, I’m gonna come from this.” You’re gasping into his mouth and sound a little surprised, rocking harder against him. He tugs at your bottom lip.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter a little at the memory. “How could I forget? I’m pretty sure I told you I’ve never came like that with so much of my clothing still on.”

He grins, lifting your shirt off over your head and moving straight for the exposed curve of your chest. “Sounds about right.” He buries his face in your cleavage, licking and sucking and nibbling and you whimper, pressing closer, spreading your legs, and rolling in his lap against him. “Yeah baby, make yourself feel good,” he murmurs, and you bite your lower lip, standing up briefly to shove your leggings and underwear down. You drop back down on him, gripping the back of his neck and grinding hard. “Don’t stop. Wanna feel how wet you are,” he mumbles, pulling you down firmly against him. “Want to feel you soaking through my pants, fuck.”

“You’re nasty,” you say with a grin, moaning a little when he kisses your neck, teeth grazing.

“Mmmm,” he agrees, and you feel him twitch under you. “You like it.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck and moving in slow circles, relishing the friction. “Think I need help getting there,” you whisper, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your thighs. “Help me?” With a soft moan, he presses his fingers against you.

“Fuck baby, so soft and warm; love touching you.” You rock back, giving him better access, and he spreads you slightly with his ring and index finger, letting his middle finger slip deep in you while his thumb rolls over your clit lightly. “Wish you could feel you like I feel you, see you like I see you,” he whispers, and you close your eyes, giving in to his touch, feeling yourself get wetter as his fingers move inside of you. “That’s my girl,” he says with a smile and his words only push you further. “You like being told how good you are, don’t you? Hearing how good you feel and how good you make me feel?” You nod, eyes still shut. “Look at me, babygirl.” When you open your eyes, he smiles so sweetly. “Love those eyes.” His middle finger curls back and you gasp as he starts rubbing slowly. “Watch me make you come,” he tells you gently and you nod, lips parted breathlessly.

“Oh…oh god,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss him softly as he pushes you over the edge. You slump against him, thighs tightening around his hips as you roll through it.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, removing his fingers so you’re pressed directly against him. You’re trembling and he’s stroking over your back soothingly. “You are so beautiful, coming like this, fuck, love watching you come undone, so pretty baby, love you so much.” His voice is soft in your ear and you let out a soft sound as the waves subside and you can see clearly again.

“Shit Brendon, that was something.” Your voice is a little shaky and he grins, slipping his fingers in his mouth and cleaning them off quickly. “God, you know what that does to me.”

He nods, pulling his fingers out from between his lips with an audible pop. “Can I make you dinner?” You nod, snuggling down on top of him. “Milton baby, I’m not gonna be able to do much pressed into the couch under you like this,” he tells you and you groan, shifting off of him and slumping against the cushions. “Do you want anything in particular or do you want to be surprised?”

“Surprise me,” you request, hugging the throw pillow to you. Your eyes are heavy and you know you should get up and go sit with him in the kitchen or drink some cold water or something, but this couch is so comfortable and your softer orgasms always make you warm and sleepy; not like the rougher ones that make you want more. Not that you’d mind more right now, he did promise you’d fuck, but also, this pillow is great. Eyes so heavy. Stay awake, you tell yourself. It’s so soft.

-||-

His hand is warm, brushing over your cheek. “Milton baby, I’m gonna carry you upstairs, okay?” His hands are warm and his voice is soft and his chest is firm and you just nod and mumble something - you’re not even sure what. You’re definitely not awake though. Once upstairs, he sets you on top of the bed and folds the comforter over you so you don’t have to move to get under the blankets. His lips, also soft and warm, press gently to yours. “Sleep baby, I’ll be with you soon,” he promises.

You’re lingering in some half-sleep, aware that you’re not totally asleep but unable to move or speak or do much of anything. You feel the cool air of his room as he pulls the covers back gently and bed dip ever so slightly as he gets behind you and you manage to roll into his chest, your body flush with his. He leans over you to grab the edge of the comforter hanging off your side of the bed and flips it up, making a trifold of his comforter and you’re both tucked inside, tangled together. Your leg is hitched over his hip and his arm is draped over you, keeping you close. Your head fits under his chin and your other arm is slung over his shoulder so with his head on the pillow, your arm is supporting his neck. He sighs contentedly and you can hear the fatigue in his voice too. “It was a long day, wasn’t it baby? But I’m glad it went well. I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours. Love you Y/n. Sleep well.” He yawns and, leaning back a little, kisses the top of your head.

It’s like all you needed was him there; as soon as he’s tucked in and holding you, as soon as he tells you to sleep well, the black curtain comes down over your eyes and you succumb to sleep.

When the alarm goes off, you both moan softly, still tangled as you were last night. He fumbles for his phone, hitting the snooze button and dropping his head back down. “I gotta say,” and your voice is hoarse from sleep, “I prefer you as an alarm clock.”

He grins and kisses you slowly, softly, tongues teasing and rubbing and sliding against each other. “Is it still an alarm clock if we’re both awake when I start?” He rests his forehead against yours and you shrug.

“I won’t tell the alarm clock police if you won-oh fuck, Bren!” He’s slipped down your body and is teasing you with just the tip of his tongue, looking up at you with sleep- and lust-heavy eyes.

“Gonna also wake up the neighbors, I think, make sure they know who takes such good care of you,” he murmurs before closing his mouth over you.

-||-

You stagger out of the shower, clutching at the frame and he follows you, laughing a bit and wrapping you in a towel before grabbing his own. “You good, honey?” He asks, tucking the towel and setting you on the bathroom counter.

You grin, grabbing your comb and starting on your hair. “Besides the fact that you gave me such an intense orgasm that we’re fifteen minutes after the fact and my legs are still shaking?” He laughs a little, sliding a hand up your thigh under the towel and you swat at him playfully. “No. Bad, Urie. Bad.”

“That’s not what you were moaning in our bed with your thighs locked around my head,” he teases and you blush a little. He runs a finger down your cheek. “So pretty when you’re embarrassed,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek then sidling over to your jaw and up to your ear, where he catches your earlobe in his teeth and tugs lightly. “So sexy when you whisper my name like that.”

“You…are gonna make us late,” you tell him, breath catching in your throat. You know you don’t have time - but damn, if moving in together hasn’t quadrupled both of your libidos; the sex has been insane since you first agreed to move in. Part of you thinks it’s the honeymoon phase of your relationship; you can’t keep your hands off each other. Another part of you feels, deep down, that this is it - this is your normal. You’ll always be like this, making your kids uncomfortable and making other couples envious. You smile a little and he brushes a finger over your lips.

“Whatcha smiling for, pretty girl?”

“Just thinking about us.” He smiles wide at your words and squeezes your thigh lightly.

“Good. I smile when I think about us too. Now, let’s not be late to school.” He gives you a playful look and you laugh, sliding off the counter and thankfully finding your legs mostly steady under you.

-||-

“You’re sure you’re okay to go back there and pack by yourself?” He looks worried as you stand by your car after school. “I can cut practice short again-“

“I’ll be okay,” you promise, smiling reassuringly. “Besides, you’ll get there when it’s dark and you’ll be with me when I’m leaving. That’s the important time. The rest of it I’ll be inside with the door locked.” He looks unsure and you cross between your cars to kiss him tenderly. “I appreciate you wanting to be there the whole time. But I can’t ask you to cut practice short; not when I know in my heart I’ll be just fine.”

“If you’re sure…” he looks miserable and you hug him tightly, promising you’ll be okay and you’ll call him if you need him for any reason. “I’ll have my phone on me and on loud,” he tells you seriously. You kiss him once more and as you pull away, he brings you back and holds you tightly. “I love you,” he murmurs, his eyes on yours.

“I love you too,” you reply, and you melt into his hold for a moment.

-||-

You’ve made great progress when he arrives after band practice; the kitchen and living room are sorted and packed into Things to Take and Things to Donate and Things to Trash, with each box clearly labeled. You stretch a little and open the door when he knocks; you know it’s him because he’s sent you texts updating you on his location since leaving school. He steps inside and looks around, impressed. “Dang Milton, you’ve done well.”

You grin, surveying your progress. “Now the bedroom,” you tell him.

“I’m great in bedrooms,” he offers with a wink and you roll your eyes, beckoning him to follow you. He stops behind you once you’re in the room and hugs you from behind. “What’s the plan? How can I help?”

You consider. “If you want to start packing clothes maybe? I’m taking everything, so it should be easy. I’ll deal with the rest of this stuff,” and you gesture around you. He kisses your head and makes for the closet and you start on the bedside table.

It’s been maybe 20 minutes when you hear him call out, “hey honey?” You acknowledge him and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You said you’re taking all of your clothes? Including this green thing?” You tip your head to the side, trying to remember what green thing he’s talking - oh. He’s tossed it out for you to see and you recognize the emerald scrap of lace in front of you. “And this purple one, please take this one; I remember that night.” It also comes flying out and you freeze, realizing what drawer he’s found. “Baby, what will it take to get you into this little whi- oh my god.” You blush furiously, knowing what he’s come across. “Babygirl.” His voice is low and fuck, the conditioning is working because you feel a rush of heat between your legs. You’ve been seated, having dumped out the contents of your bedside table on the floor, and at the sound of his voice, you crawl over and, reaching up to grab his belt, you pull yourself up against him. Once you’re level with him, he speaks again. “Hold out your hand.” You do, and you know what’s coming and you can’t help but grin. “When were you going to introduce me to your friend?” And then the familiar weight of your favorite vibrator is in your hand and you close your hand around it, considering.

“To be fair, I haven’t used it since we began.”

“And why not?” He seems a little incredulous and now you’re confused.

“Wait, what?”

“Why haven’t you used it since?” He is genuinely curious.

“Well, I haven’t needed it…” You say slowly, still perplexed. Jason was always a little threatened by your toys, so Brendon being curious is a sharp left turn from your norm.

“Yeah, but have you wanted it?”

“Honestly, not really.” You admit, rolling it in your hands. “You make me feel amazing; I don’t really need to supplement what you give me.” He considers this.

“I wanna see you use it. Please.” He smiles at you so sweetly that you find yourself instinctively nodding. “That whole drawer back there, you use those?”

“Used,” you correct him and he waves this away. “So, uhm, you want to see me…” you hesitate, the word awkward on your tongue.

“Yeah, babygirl, if you’re comfortable with it.” He brushes your hair back. “And it doesn’t have to be now or anything obviously…we can finish packing the bedroom.”

You roll your shoulders back and make the decision. “Let’s finish my clothes and then head back to the house.”

He grins, headed back to his task. “And we’re bringing that drawer with us tonight.”

-||-

“This feels ridiculous,” you giggle, resting back on your forearms, naked. He’s lying next to you on his side, wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. “I mean, I’m gonna do it, don’t get me wrong, but…” you giggle again and he rolls over you to kiss you softly.

“You don’t have to,” he reminds you, and you shake your head, reaching for where you set it on the nightstand.

“Want to. Just feels weird at first, having an audience.” You grin at him and he shifts back to watch you as you let it rest on your stomach while you pour a tiny amount of lubricant into your hand and start stroking it, admittedly putting on a bit of show for him. Finished, you take a soft breath and hit the power button; it jolts alive in your hand and the purr is a familiar, almost comforting, one. Your free hand reaches out for his, and he laces your fingers together while you bring the buzzing sensation up to your chest, letting the tip of it rest against each nipple for a moment until they’re both hard. He lets out a moan, watching your body react and you squeeze his hand. You drag it down the length of your torso, relishing the slick trail it’s leaving. You let it rest for a moment over your mound, just feeling the vibration. 

After what feels like forever to both of you, you slip it between your legs and just let it glide back and forth over your lips, letting the lube mix with your own wetness. He groans, watching your hips roll and you shift onto your side, facing him with your legs partially open; one bent knee almost fully elevated. “God, baby, it feels so good,” you whisper and he nods, biting his lip and watching you. The curved head of the toy is about halfway back and thanks to the flexibility of the silicone, you’re able to press the shaft back against your clit for a long moment before going back to the teasing strokes across yourself. You find a good spot, a familiar spot, and press the tip in hard, the toy still horizontal across your pussy and you’re unable to stop the moans coming from your mouth. 

“Brendon, fuck, talk to me,” you beg, bucking hard against the toy between your legs. He groans, leaning close and murmuring how pretty you look, how in love with you he is, how sexy you are for doing this for him, and you’re moaning louder, not quite there but so fucking close, “so fucking close,” you tell him breathlessly. He presses in and sucks one of your hard nipples into his mouth, tongue teasing. You cry out with your first, still rubbing the toy across you. He leans back, pupils fully dilated and lids heavy.

“Do you fuck yourself with it?” He asks in a low voice and you nod, whimpering as you roll flat on your back, holding the tip of the toy against you. “Can I see?”

You nod again, biting your lip, cautiously rotating the toy to a more vertical position and gently rock it forward. You’ve had one orgasm already and you lubed the toy up well; you’re not surprised when it slides all the way in. “Fuck,” you hiss, lashes fluttering as you fight to keep your eyes open and on him. “Feels like you,” you grin, clicking a button and amping up the vibrations. You’re rocking it in and out of you, moaning and writhing and whispering his name, and his hand squeezes yours. You hear something and you look over, only slightly surprised to see his sweatpants shoved down his thighs and his dick in his hand, matching your strokes of the toy. 

You meet his eyes and plead. “Want it harder, baby, faster too,” and he picks up the speed and intensity of his strokes, which gives you permission to do to the same. “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” You gasp and press down on the base of the toy, pushing the tip up against your g-spot as you thrust it rapidly. “Oh god, oh fuck, Brendon, please, fuck,” you cry, knowing in the back of your mind that you’re in control, you’re the one with the toy in your hand, you’re the one fucking you hard. And yet, it’s always going to be him. Ever since that first time with him, it’ll always be him. “Baby, just a little faster,” you beg, “and a little rougher, fuck me just a little rougher.”

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hand flying over himself and you moan in relief, once again matching him.

“Oh fuck, oh god, Brendon, I’m gonna come I’m gonna come for you I’m gonna co-“ and then it’s just a shrill cry as you come hard, warm wet heat covering the toy as you clamp down hard. He’s coming too, spurting over his fist and you let out a soft mewling noise, watching his cum roll down his fist and onto his stomach.

The toy is still deep in you, buzzing furiously and you’re still rolling against it, and then his mouth is on yours, fingers pinching your nipple lightly. “Come again for me, let me see you come again.” It’s not an order but he’s not pleading either; you can’t tell where his head is at but you’re pretty sure you can comply. But…

“Do you wanna make me come?” Your voice is soft and his eyes go wide as you bring his hand to the base of the toy. “Press down on the base to angle the tip up inside me and go fast and hard,” you beg, spreading for him.

He’s not used to the toy so it’s a bit awkward at first, his thrusts sporadic and sloppy, but he gets the hang of it, the necessary wrist motion to keep it moving fast and hard while angled correctly and you grip the sheets under you with one hand and his hair with the other. “Lemme see you come,” he whispers, going even faster and harder than you were and your eyes are wide; you’ve never felt pleasure quite like this and he must feel your walls start to tighten around the toy, so he pulls it out and holds the tip directly against your clit and your eyes are rolling back in your head, “fuck yes babygirl, come for your man, let me see you come for me,” as you come harder than you have ever before, your whole body shaking with the exertion.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, eyes slipping shut. It doesn’t hurt - yet - but you bat away the toy, whimpering. He turns it off and casts it aside, pulling your trembling body against his. “Oh my god,” you moan, burying your face in his chest, and he runs a hand through your hair.

“So we’ll be adding that toy to our repertoire,” he murmurs, and you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Fucking hell,” you finally manage. “I stopped using it because I had you, but holy fuck, I should have been using it with you.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, arguments, school in lockdown, sex, dirty talk. I think that’s all.
> 
> Word count: 5.3k

“Oh, fuck Urie, say it again,” you beg, stretching your legs until your toes curl and your arms above your head, taking up the length of the bed and loving how the sheets glide over you. “Say it again, baby, please.”

He’s standing over you in those black sweatpants, watching you writhe in his bed, eyes heavy when he lets the words fall from his lips again. “Breakfast is ready and I put chocolate chips in the pancakes.”

“God, fuck yes, I love you,” you gasp and he laughs, leaning down to pick you up. You scramble into his grasp, clinging to him and he curls his arms under your legs.

“You were sounding a little turned on there, Y/n.” He comments, and you both tighten your grip as he makes his way downstairs.

“Uh, yeah. A, you woke me up naked in our bed which means we had great sex and then B, you told me there were pancakes and C, chocolate chips in them. Who wouldn’t be turned on by that?”

He places you on the kitchen island and ducks into the laundry room, grabbing one of your silk robes. “Now I know why you’re leaving these all over the place,” he grins, and you wiggle into it as he pulls it around you. “Because you could end up naked in any room.”

You nod with a smug grin, tying the belt loosely and swinging your legs back and forth. “Exactly. You think I’m being messy, but it’s actually pretty smart, right?”

He taps you lightly on the nose and kisses your forehead. “Sure baby, pretty smart.” His eyes are a little distant as he stabs a piece of pancake and feeds it to you, using the pad of his thumb to wipe a smear of chocolate off of your lower lip. You chase his thumb with your tongue, grinning when you capture it. “Tastes good?” He whispers, and you suck gently, moaning as you nod. “I meant the pancake,” he teases and you pull your mouth off of him, rolling your eyes.

“Baby, you know they taste good.” You accept the plate he offers you and you slip off the counter, following him to the table. “You okay honey? You seemed kinda tense for a minute there.” You know you look worried and he lets you take his hand in yours, thumb tracing his knuckles. He looks distracted and you lean over, spearing a piece off of his plate and bringing it to his mouth. He accepts it, chewing thoughtfully.

“You ever just…feel like something is off, not here but out there? It’s not us, I promise baby, but it’s something that’s going to happen out there. Something isn’t right.” You nod, more concerned. “I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean to worry you.” He makes a concerted effort to look more relaxed but you’re not buying it.

“Anything I can do to make it better?” Your voice is soft and he shakes his head a little, and you pass him his fork so you can each finish breakfast. “I love you,” you tell him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He looks down at you. “I love you too, Y/n,” but his voice is a little flat. You both stand up and rinse the plates off; he stands behind you, pressed flush against you, slumping over so his chin is resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m in a mood,” he whispers and you shrug a little.

“Don’t apologize. You don’t have to be cheerful and enthusiastic all of the time. You’re allowed to have off days. I love you no matter your mood,” you tell him and he smiles, turning to kiss your neck lightly.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmurs and you turn in his arms, kissing him full on the mouth, rocking your hips forward into his when his tongue finds yours. His hands slide down and he lifts you onto the edge of the sink so he can press closer.

“Don’t you,” you mumble, pulling back a little. “Don’t you ever imply you’re not worth every good thing this world has to offer. Don’t you ever dare to insinuate you’re not amazing. You hear me Urie?” Your eyes are blazing and he can see how serious you are.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing you softly. “Thank you for being you and for loving me.”

You smile. “I’m the only person I know how to be and you’re easy to love, so I’m not sure if a ‘you’re welcome’ is appropriate or not.” He laughs and lifts you down off the counter and you cup his cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything?”

He sighs and shrugs. “I think you should talk to him.”

You blink once. “I’m sorry, what?”

He sighs again, as if he knew you’d react this way. “I think you should hear what he has to say.” Your blood is pounding in your ears and your vision is swimming and you think you’re going to throw up. Just like that, your wonderful morning together, trashed. “He obviously is intent on speaking to you, so you might as well speak to him.”

“Do you give the same pep talk to lambs being lead to the slaughter? ‘You’re gonna die anyway, so you might as well go yourself before we drag you there’ or something? What the fuck Brendon?” You’re not yelling; your tone is level and cool, but it’s taking everything you have in you to not flip out.

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” And that’s what sends you over the edge.

“A bit extreme? A bit extreme? The man psychologically abused me for years and laid his hands on me and bruised me and knocked me unconscious - and you think I’m being a bit extreme? What the fuck?” Your shoulders are squared and you’ve turned to face him fully, your pulse a hummingbird in flight.

“You won’t even talk to the guy? Y/n, you owe him that much I think.” As soon as he says it you can tell he regrets it but you’re already fuming.

“Let’s get one thing very clear; I don’t owe him shit. And if you think I do, if you think that he can do whatever he wants to me and then come crawling back and I should just go and listen to whatever bullshit he’s got this time, then fuck that and fuck you too.” You spit the words at him, chest heaving with labored breaths.

If he was on the brink of apologizing, you’ve closed that door with your last utterance. He’s pissed now. “Y/n, you’re being crazy.”

Your eyes widen and you throw your hands in the air. “And there it is, the man’s perfect one-size-fits-all catch-all when a woman doesn’t do what you want; she’s crazy. What the fuck, Brendon? Am I also being a psychotic bitch?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I never said you were crazy.”

You shriek with laughter. “Oh because ‘being crazy’ is different than saying I ‘am crazy,’ is that it? Well, if that’s the case, I think you’re being a fucking asshole. I didn’t say you were one though, don’t put words in my mouth.” The last part comes out mockingly.

“Jesus Christ, you are acting like a psychotic bitch. Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Who the fuck am I? I’m fucking done.”

You stalk out of the room and get ready in under 15 minutes despite his following you up the stairs and despite his attempts to get your attention. You’ve successfully dressed, albeit it’s your “fuck it I have nothing to wear and/or don’t care” black sheath and done your hair and makeup and are leaving the room when he grabs you by the arm. “Y/n-“

You snatch your arm from his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me right now.”

You grab your keys from the shelf by the door and slam the front door on your way to your car. Once you’re buckled in and driving, you let the tears fall.

-||-

“Anna, whatever you’re doing, it’s not annotating John Donne’s masterpiece, The Flea.” She doesn’t deny it, mostly because she doesn’t acknowledge you; her chin is in her hand and she’s staring off into space. “Anna. Anna.” You wave a hand in front of her face and she blinks a few times.

“Sorry Ms. Milton, I was…” and she blushes a little. Brittany who sits behind her and has never given you any problems before starts laughing, and claps a hand over her mouth. You cut your eyes to Brittany who gives a little squeak and goes quiet.

“Ladies?” They can tell you’re not annoyed - not yet, at least, and their response from this point forward will determine that status. Anna twists in her seat to give Brittany a look and Brittany shakes her head frantically. “Ladies,” and you’re borderline, “don’t make me ask again.”

Anna sighs, knowing honesty is the best policy with you. Her voice comes out in a soft whisper. “I was trying to imagine kissing Mr. Urie, I’m really sorry.” You stiffen a little and feel the waves of nausea and rising tears hit you when you remember the things you both said this morning. Admittedly mostly you; his were thoughtless, but you were malicious. You give the tiniest imperceivable head shake to clear your head. You roll your eyes and pat her on the shoulder. That felt natural. She probably bought that.

“Take a lap. Cool down. Focus on boys your age; you’ll be much happier in the long run.” She stands up to head for the door and you nudge her. “For what it’s worth,” you say in a low voice, “Eric thinks you’re cute.”

Brittany nods and agrees with you and Anna flushes, but carries herself a little differently as she passes Eric’s desk and leaves the room to take, as directed, a lap down the hall to refocus. You grin when his eyes follow her out the door. You love being right.

“Alright everyone, take three more minutes with those annotations; I should see a lot of definitions - you all have dictionaries on your phone; it’s called Google.” You continue your stroll around the room and tap on a few desks to refocus. “Focus guys, this is good stuff,” you say with a smile. “The Flea is one of the most scandalous poems of its period; it’s gross, it talks about sex, it thumbs its nose at religion. How could you not love it?”

Anna slips back into the room and she looks better. You smile at her kindly and she returns it, sliding back into her desk and grabbing her pen with the four-ink option so she can frantically annotate before you move on to discussing the work.

You’re on a roll; kids are answering your questions and bringing up their own thoughts - this is the class student-teachers dream of, so you shouldn’t be surprised when there’s a knock at the door and everyone is jolted back to the real world.

You open the door and it’s a freshman girl (you can always tell the freshmen apart; it’s a talent of yours) and she shoves a note into your hand and stalks off. Well, if you weren’t sure who the note was from before…you think to yourself. You close the door and all of your students are done with Donne and want to hear what Brendon has to say.

You flip the note open quickly. “I’m sorry. I love you.” You try not to react and wave a hand over the classroom, bringing their focus back to you. “If we can get through The Flea and you get rhyme scheme on To the Virgins done, you won’t have homework.” It’s a bribe but you don’t care, ethics be damned. Jessica speaks loudly from her spot in the front corner.

“I think it’s really sweet that he writes you notes and sends you flowers for no real reason other than he wanted to or was thinking of you. A lot of guys think that making you their “Woman Crush Wednesday” and having a generic, boring nickname is all it takes to be romantic, but that’s not true. He makes an effort with you and it makes us realize we deserve better.” She throws a pointed look at her on-again, off-again boyfriend Blake in the back corner of the room. Your eyes go wide, not trying to cause another break-up. Although, you’re not sure if they’re together today or not - not the point - or did you mean you and Brendon when you said another? Fuck. Are you broken up? You don’t think it’s over but… You come back to Jessica and give a slightly forced smile.

“I’m glad you see it that way. I hope you all see it that way. There is a standard for how you should be treated; don’t compromise that out of the desire to be with someone. I would rather be alone than with a man who didn’t value and appreciate me,” you say, hands on your hips, and Caroline claps giddily, but quickly drops her hands when everyone else gives her a weird look. “Thanks Caroline. Let’s talk about Herrick, yeah?” You beam at the class and they settle back in their chairs, your relationship obviously no longer on the table for discussion.

When the bell rings, you feel good about the class day as a whole. Second block students start filing in, and Emily hands you another note. You walk back to your desk and open it. “I mean it. I’m so sorry, honey. You’re an incredible woman and I’m so lucky to be in love with and be loved by you.” This one is written in green ink, and you know he wrote it at the podium; he color-codes his notes by location so when he’s reviewing the notes he writes to himself throughout the day, he’ll know which ones he wrote where - sometimes it matters; other times it doesn’t as much. It’s a small thing, but you love it about him. Green is at his podium, electric blue is at his desk, and several red ones are tied to his clipboard for outdoor practices. The first note was at his desk; he probably wrote it first thing and waited a bit to send it down to give you time to cool off. This one is quickly scrawled, and you can imagine his hand flying over the paper as he gives the sections a brief task or challenge; something to give him enough time to get his thoughts down on paper. Your heart aches.

Emily lingers at your desk. “Is everything okay, Ms. Milton?” You look up at her. “Mr. Urie seemed really out of it today and wrote you two notes. We just wondered…” her voice trails off and you nod.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just one of those days where things feel sort of off and you’re not sure how to fix it.”

She nods, and you think she understands. Or she’s pretending to at least, and it’s convincing enough for you to move on.

Second block is far more responsive to The Flea than first block, but they also aren’t interrupted by his notes and their own curiosity. They’re making great connections, picking up on the innuendo and pointing it out without being crass, and overall, you’re very happy with the way class is going.

You’re approaching the end of the period when the PA system beeps and you roll your eyes, waiting to be interrupted for something trivial. But today, it’s not trivial at all.

“Teachers,” your principal booms into the mic and you can hear the panic in his voice and garbled yelling in the background, “we’re in a lockdown situation; we are in a lockdown situati-.” The PA gives a screech of static and is silent.

This isn’t a drill. You know this isn’t a drill. You spring into action, double-checking that your door is locked and you hit the light switch while the kids press into the back corner of the room that can’t be seen from the door’s window. You take one steadying breath, and then another. 3 seconds to yourself, then go. You grab the emergency folder you keep on your desk and slip the 2nd block attendance sheet out of it and run down the list. The kids are actually quiet; during the drills there’s whispering and giggling and lights from phones, despite your pleading. But no, in the reality of the situation, they’re petrified and rightfully so. You mark your two who are absent today as such on the roster and continue marking kids as safe. Someone in the back is crying and your heart breaks. You want to cry too, but you can’t. You’re the adult. You need another adult. An adultier adult - fuck, Brendon. Your senses are flooded; every part of you longs for him to be here with you. You couldn’t bear to die with that being your last interaction, without telling him you loved him once more - you scold yourself internally for thinking of death - but if there were ever a time to anticipate your imminent death, it’s now.

Frank didn’t specify what type of lockdown situation like he promised he would in the faculty meeting; this could be anything from a wild animal loose in the building to what all of you are thinking and fearing most. But there was yelling, you heard it, and the PA cut off so abruptly…this probably isn’t a wild animal. Fuck. Josh is slipping his phone out of his pocket and you hate yourself for what you have to do.

“Josh, sweetheart, I need you to put the phone away. You know the school doesn’t want us trying to contact anyone because they’ll try to get here and it’ll block the roads for first responders.”

He doesn’t look up but says in a quiet voice, “no disrespect, Ms. Milton, but fuck what the school wants. I’m telling my parents and my little sister I love them one last time.”

You break with a sharp sob and the tears fall. Brendon, fuck, your last words to him were to not fucking touch you - what you wouldn’t give to hold him once more before…before. You wipe at your tears quickly, blinking hard and the students pretend not to see. They know you’re not hurt by Josh’s words; they know you’re scared too. A few others take out their phones, and you’re so angry that these kids are in this position. This isn’t fair. That’s putting it lightly though.

The average shooting lasts 7-12 minutes. Surely it’s been that long? But you haven’t heard any shots or screams. Something is wrong. Well, no. Not wrong. Definitely not wrong - but you’re pretty sure this isn’t a shooting. The kids are thinking the same thing and you see some shoulders drop and the muffled cries become sniffles. Emily is curled up under Josh’s arm and they’re both holding each other, his arm around her body and her arms curled over his, and you thought she and David were a thing but you think this is a far better match.

Time drags, or so it feels. Your phone is in your purse locked in your lower desk drawer, and you’re not about to go over there. You’re confident it’s not an active shooter but you’re not positive. You hear footsteps coming. You all collectively freeze. Your door handle shakes a little and you all have to stifle a cry. None of you are sure.

Time ticks on. Is he okay? Is he thinking of you? Is he okay?

The PA crackles back on, and Frank sounds calmer. “The lockdown situation is resolved. Sheriffs have concluded a sweep of the school and students are to report to the cafeteria for lunch to-go and/or dismissal; your parents have been contacted and buses are arriving as well. I’m using my power as principal to cancel any homework you might have been given so far.” He laughs but you can hear the tension behind it. “Teachers, please escort your classes to the cafeteria at this time.”

You scramble to your feet and everyone else does as well. You take a few steadying breaths and they do too. “I felt safe with you, Ms. Milton,” Karen says from the back. I’ve never been in a real situation before but I’m glad I was with you. I felt safe.” The others murmur their assent and you wipe at the tears.

“Thanks you guys. I’m really emotional right now obviously so,” you gesture to the door, “let’s go to the cafeteria.”

You try to subtly crane your neck as you lead your class to the cafeteria; you’re scanning for him. Frank wouldn’t let people be roaming the halls if anyone was hurt, so you’re confident he’s okay but - you need him. You need to see him. Once at the cafeteria, you say goodbye to your students and thank them again for their composure during the lockdown, telling them how proud you are of them.

The students who need lunch get a boxed lunch from the cafeteria staff, who are all standing behind one long table, handing them out. The cafeteria slowly empties and you scan again from your spot at the door. Where is he?

You’re standing on tiptoe, peering around the room when Brendon’s arms wrap around you tightly from behind. You give a soft moan of relief and turn in his embrace, hugging him tightly, the hot tears spilling over onto his shoulder.

“Come on baby,” he whispers, and leads you back to the band room, where, once inside, he locks the door and checks it, before taking you into his office. You nearly collapse on the couch and he leans against his desk, eyes on you, desperate, longing.

“Please,” you beg, tears thickening your voice, ”please just come hold me.” You can see him nearly melt with relief and then he’s next to you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head under his chin and against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” you sputter, and he shakes his head.

“It’s my fault. I said some stupid things.”

You protest. “Maybe, but I was irrationally angry and I said some awful things.”

He kisses the top of your head and squeezes you tightly. “Out of response to my stupidity.” You’re quiet for a minute, not sure if you should keep arguing, but he makes the decision for you when he tangles his hands in your hair and pulls your head back so he can kiss you. You both moan and clutch at each other when your tongues meet and you shift a little, making it clear to him that he can lay you down. He does and crawls over you, mouth seeking yours again while his one hand stays tangled in your hair, tugging every now and then. “So fucking sorry,” he whispers against your lips and you whimper, clutching him closer. “Love you so much, babygirl; couldn’t stay calm during that, not knowing if you were safe or not.”

“I felt the same way,” you moan, trying not to let yourself cry again. “It was ruining me, knowing what my last words to you had been.” You’re openly crying now and he pulls away to wipe your tears.

“You’re okay baby, we’re okay. Just breathe.”

You look up at him and match his breathing; you feel your heart rate drop. “I’m so sorry honey. I love you,” he says again, cupping your face with the hand not in your hair. He’s laying so he’s half-on you, half-off, side and back against the back of the couch. You take his hand from your face and he starts stuttering an apology, thinking you don’t want to be touched, but you shush him as you guide his hand to your inner thigh, up inside your dress.

“Make me forget for a minute.” Your words are soft and he touches you so gently it’s almost reverent.

“Babygirl,” he sighs, stroking you with two fingers lightly, teasing, trying to get you really wet. “Gonna get slick for me, honey? Gonna let me remind you who loves you most? God, I love you so much,” he groans in your ear and you roll your hips against his fingers.

You frown a little. “Sometimes with stress, it fucks with my head and I just…can’t get as wet as I need to be. As I want to be.”

“Let me make it better.” He meets your eyes and you nod, biting your lip.

You both move on the couch; you scoot up towards the arm rest and he settles between your legs, on his knees. He slips his hands under your legs and pushes them gently towards your chest and pushes the hem of your dress up, higher and higher, until he can run his tongue across your lacy panties, moaning and pressing closer, hands on your thighs tightening their grip before slipping up under the dress and hooking both thumbs around your underwear and pulling it down sharply. You shift a little and raise both feet, one at a time, to help him get them off of you.

He slips them in his back pocket and turns back to you. “We probably shouldn’t take anything else off,” he says reluctantly, and you know he’s right. “Can I lick you, babygirl?”

“Please,” you whimper, rocking your hips forward. He is eager, attentive, and he moans into you roughly when your hips involuntarily twitch. His tongue rubs over you before dipping in, and you cry out when you feel a rush of heat between your legs. He moans too, nudging in closer, lips spreading a bit more as he tries to taste as much of you as he can.

“So sorry honey; love you so much,” and his words are muffled against you but you know what he’s saying. He’s always good at this, great even, the best you’ve ever had no questions asked - but as an apology, you can hardly breathe. He’s outdoing himself. His lips are so soft against yours but his tongue is firm and thrusting and stroking and lapping when he pulls back to focus on your clit.

He’s moaning so loudly and he grabs your hips, pulling you down against his face to get more. “Feels so good,” you whimper, and he moves one hand from your hip to between your legs. His hand doesn’t move, his tongue doesn’t stop, and you know what he’s asking. “Yes please, fingers.”

He pulls back, gasping a little and crawls up over you to kiss you hard. Your slick on his lips, transferring to yours, is ruining your lipstick and getting it all over his mouth too, but you honestly don’t care. You secretly want to look like you’ve been fucked hard; you want people to see what he does to you and vice versa. He’s got two fingers inside you, rocking slow and deep, and you moan into his mouth with every thrust while his thumb strums over your clit in delicate circles. He pulls away from your lips quickly and you giggle a little. “You’ve got my lipstick all over your face,” you laugh and he arches an eyebrow.

“Is that so?” He kisses your neck and pulls back to survey his results. There’s a clear lip print in deep mauve. “Gonna kiss every exposed part of you and let people see all the places you let me put my mouth,” he tells you and you giggle again, nodding. “I wasn’t kidding babygirl, they’ll know just how nasty we are, they’ll be imagining how my lips got there, how I fucked you and where, and when.” His mouth moves over your neck and jaw, groaning happily every time he pulls away and sees the mauve stain. “Fucking mine,” he whispers and you moan your assent. His fingers keep fucking you while he ducks his mouth down to mark your shoulder, first one and then the other.

It takes some skill but he slides down your torso, fingers still rocking, lips moving over your arms before he kisses the back of your hands. The color is fading so he wriggles back up your body to kiss you again, to gather more. He kisses each finger, sucking each fully into his mouth so the staining is at the bottom of each finger. Satisfied, he slides further down and starts on your exposed thighs and calves. “Gonna go easy on you here honey, don’t want you coming just yet.” He does kiss you though, making sure to noticeably drag his lips down your thigh so the lipstick streaks and smudges on your skin.

“Turn over, babygirl,” he commands in a soft voice, hands on your hips to help you. “Yeah baby, let me see you on your hands and knees, the way you are when you’re begging for my cock to take you hard from behind.” He’s teasing but he curves over you anyway to press his lips to the back of your neck. Fearing a loss of color again, he slides both fingers out of you and sucks them roughly before taking you by the hair and turning your head so he can sloppily kiss you, moving back to fuck and hold you again. His hand stays on your hip but he rocks back to his knees too, so he can get down to the backs of your thighs and calves. His lips caress you there, breath hot as he teases your skin. “Look so pretty for me, babygirl, all marked up with my lips. God, getting me so hot, so beautiful, love you so much,” he whispers and you nod, whimpering. He can feel how wet you are for him and he considers before making up his mind.

“Get back on your back, honey, gonna make you feel how much I love you, gonna really apologize.” His hands set you free and you flip compliantly, wriggling your dress up over your hips. He unbuckles his pants and shoves them and his underwear down to mid-thigh. “Can I, babygirl?” When you nod desperately, he shakes his head. “Tell me. Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck Brendon, please, please fuck me. I love you so much, I’m so sorry for what I sa-“ his lips are on yours and he rocks into you. You both groan, and his mouth slips from yours, suckling gently at your neck. He’s rocking into you hard and slow, almost rolling his hips against you to work his cock against your g-spot. “I love you,” you gasp, and he nods against your neck, breathing hard and moaning when you squeeze around him.

“You’re perfect. Gonna come in you,” he tells you, biting his lip. “Need you to come first.” You nod, grinding against him in small circles, working your clit against his pelvis.

“Oh fuck,” you hiss, feeling your orgasm building when he adds his fingers to the sensations against your clit. He nuzzles your neck and thrusts a little faster, relishing the breathy moans you can’t help but let out. “Brendon, god, love you, coming-“ you manage to gasp and he lets out a strangled gasp and comes too. You whimper, feeling him spill into you, hot and familiar, and you lock your legs around him to keep him buried in you until he’s given you everything he can. He lunges forward to kiss you and it’s messy, both of you telling the other how sorry you are, how much you love them, how much you need them.

His intercom beeps as you both finish, breathing hard. “Mr. Urie?” Your heads both snap up and he answers, trying to sound normal, like he didn’t just come deep inside you while fucking you in his school office. “Have you seen Ms. Milton? She’s needed in the main office. She has a guest.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, physical violence, dirty talk, oral sex…I think that’s everything.
> 
> Word count: 4.1k

“Have you seen Ms. Milton? She’s needed in the main office. She has a guest.”

You shake your head frantically. You can’t go up there. Not like this. Your hair is a mess and your body is covered in lip-shaped stains and smudges. His talk about how everyone would know where he kissed you and how he fucked you was hot in the moment, but right now it’s terrifying.

Brendon clears his throat. “No, I, uh, haven’t seen her. But if I do, I’ll send her up there.” The secretary thanks him and the room goes silent. “We gotta get cleaned up,” he says after a minute and you nod. A little frantically, you both scramble up and try to create a sense of normalcy about your persons; you’re smoothing your hair down and scrubbing at your arms and legs with hand sanitizer. He doesn’t have nearly as much to do, so he drops to his knees to work at your legs too. You moan a little when his hands, warm and smooth, slip up your thighs. “Focus babygirl,” he murmurs and you give him a pointed look. “Sorry.” He grins, realizing the conditioning he joked about worked.

“We are so fucked,” you groan, looking down at yourself. You look better, but certainly not your best. The main office staff will definitely know something is up. He looks up at you and shrugs.

“Let them talk. Frank already knows and is cool with everything so…”

“He’s cool with us dating; who knows how he feels about us fucking in your office during school hours.”

He winces. “Okay, well when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound great.” You nod and he shrugs again. “Oh well. Can’t unring a bell, can’t unfuck my girlfriend. We’ll behave better moving forward, yeah?”

You laugh a little as he stands and pulls you close. “We’re going to have to behave better if we want to keep our jobs,” you remind him and he nods, kissing your forehead.

“I can just wash my face, but how will we fix your lipstick situation?” He brushes a fingertip over your swollen lips and you remember how smeared and smudged your lipstick must be from all of his efforts. “It’s not that bad, but you do look thoroughly fucked, although that could be because I’m the one who fucked you.”

He hands you his phone so you can use the front camera as a mirror. You wince a little. It’s not great. But, and you wipe at the smudges with your thumb, it’s not terrible and it could be worse. You lick your thumb and work a bit more and after a minute, you turn to him. He looks at you appraisingly and nods. “You look good. Am I coming with you to the office?”

Eyes wide, you tell him, emphatically, yes. You feel suddenly vulnerable and step into his arms. “I don’t want to be alone for a while,” you whisper and he hugs you tightly. “And I don’t want to be apart from you.”

“It’s okay, honey. I’ll be there.”

-||-

You really shouldn’t be surprised when you come into the main office and see him standing between two officers and Frank off to one side, arms crossed. You can’t keep the language out. “You fucking asshole, what the actual fuck have you done?”

Frank, neutrally, reminds you, “language, Ms. Milton,” but you think it’s a formality.

Jason shrugs. “I came to visit and there was a small miscommunication.”

Brendon’s arm tightens around your waist and you know he wants to say something but this is your fight right now. “A miscommunication? You had this school on lockdown, you had my kids terrified they were going to die, you had all of us believing the worst; fuck, Jason, I had kids texting their parents goodbye because of you and your miscommunication.” It’s only when he shrugs again that you truly feel rage and Brendon has to hold you back when you lunge for him. “You fucking sociopath, have you no compassion? If not for me, the students?” You’re screaming at him and he’s just watching you, a little amused.

“Your secretary shouldn’t have panicked.” You notice only Margaret is at the front, Deborah is missing.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Frank interjects again, still in a tone that says he has to say this, “language, Ms. Milton. Our guest here was told he couldn’t come to your room during class time. He responded poorly to this news and made several threats against Deborah and the school itself, which is when Margaret alerted me and we went into lockdown. It was a preventative measure, but given his temper and the suggestive threats he made, we wanted to be safe. Lockdown is for any perceived threat inside the building, and,” he looks over at Jason disdainfully, “he was a perceived threat.”

You’re still struggling against Brendon’s grasp, frustrated that you can’t claw Jason’s eyes out. “You’re a monster,” you tell him, eyes flashing with loathing. “You have no empathy, you can’t take responsibility for anything you’ve done here or ever, you’re cruel and senseless and irrational, and you don’t care who you hurt as long as you get what you want.” You’re breathing hard and Brendon kisses the top of your head as he holds you tightly. He knows if he even loosens his grip a little, you’ll be across the room.

Jason smirks a bit and rolls his eyes. “And yet, you love me.”

Brendon grips you even tighter and you can feel his breath catch in his chest and you know he needs you to deny it - which will be easy. “If I have any love in my heart for you, it is for the man I thought you were. You have proven to me countless times over that you are not that man. I loved the potential we had, I loved the man you could be. But the man in front of me? The you I’m looking at today? No. All I feel for you is pity and disdain and loathing. This? You coming here, frightening an entire school, threatening my coworkers, terrifying the parents of my students, this wasn’t a grand romantic gesture like I’m sure you think it was. This was an act of terror and I,” you hiss, “don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Frank, who was a history teacher before he got his masters in administration, smiles approvingly. He’s a sucker for a good Reagan quote.

Jason looks pissed now; it’s the first time he hasn’t looked vaguely amused. “You’re overreacting Y/n.”

Maybe it’s guilt or maybe he doesn’t see the irony, but Brendon snaps. “Don’t fucking tell her she’s overreacting; don’t you fucking dare invalidate her feelings, because you don’t get to tell her how she feels.” His arms tighten and you think he’s grounding himself behind you as much as he is restraining you.

Jason’s eyes are cold but he’s not looking at you; the raised chin and condescending smile tells you it’s Brendon’s eyes he’s meeting. “And who the fuck do you think you are? You’ll never know her like I do because she’ll never open up to you like she did with me; I’ve ruined her for other men. She’ll never fully trust again, she’ll never love you the way she did me. You’re getting my leftovers, so enjoy that, dude.” You’re crying now, little hiccuping sobs; Brendon’s arms go slack around you and before you can attempt to stop him, he’s crossing the room. The officers seem to be purposefully slow in reacting because they don’t step between Brendon and Jason until moments after Brendon’s fist makes contact with Jason’s jaw. It’s an audible collision, a crack. “Fuck,” Jason hisses, and he can’t do anything thanks to the cuffs.

“Alright, settle down, Mr. Urie,” Frank chides but he sounds bored, like he’s going through the motions.

“Yeah, Mr. Urie, settle down,” Jason teases and you just can’t believe he’s that stupid because Brendon goes for him again.

“Fuck you, dude. Fuck you.” He spits the words over the bigger cop’s shoulder who is blocking him.

“Language,” Frank says in a sing-song voice and now you know for sure he’s just checking a box on the list of “appropriate things to say when your employee swears” all bosses must get. The cop is clearly considering letting Brendon pass; and you can tell from the tension in his back and shoulder that he’s going to hit harder this time.

“Brendon, please, don’t.” You can hear the break in your voice. He drops his arm and is back at your side in an instant, taking you in his arms and kissing your head, murmuring a stream of apologies, and you relax in his embrace and tilt your head up to meet his lips. “This isn’t for him, this isn’t me protecting him,” you promise, and he nods, holding you tight. “This is for you, I want you, I don’t want you to go too far and make them…do anything.” He nods again, murmuring soothing things and kissing you over and over again, wiping at your tears. When you’ve taken a steadying breath, you look at the cops on either side of Jason. “Why is he even still here? Why haven’t you escorted him off campus?” You’re trying to calm down, trying to be reasonable. Brendon rubs your arms soothingly.

“We needed a statement from you, indicating that he was acting of his own accord, you didn’t ask him to come here, and we needed to know if you planned on pressing separate charges.” One of them tells you and the other just gazes at you steadily.

You blink and turn to look at Brendon, unsure of the second part. “I’ll happily provide a statement; will you need me to come to the station?” The one who hasn’t spoken nods. “I’m not sure about pressing charges. Can I think about it?”

The first one nods this time. “But don’t think for too long, we’ll need to act quickly.”

You acknowledge this and Brendon squeezes you soothingly. “Do I come to the station now? And can he come with me?” You’re suddenly aware of how small your voice has become, how vulnerable you feel.

“If you are able to come now, it would be ideal. And yes, he,” the officer nods at Brendon, “can come.”

“Can I make a statement?” Brendon’s voice is sharp, his eyes meeting Jason’s.

The cops look between the two men and the first one who has done the talking nods. “If you have anything to say in either case, the trespassing or Ms. Milton’s potential charges, we would welcome a statement.”

Frank speaks suddenly, his voice soft. “You’re both good to go with them now. And,” he pauses to look at you both, “why don’t you take a few days off? Have a long weekend. Relax. I’ll enter them as principal-approved absences so they don’t come from your absence bank.”

You feel Brendon relax against you and you slump back into him. “Thank you. That would be great.” Brendon is the one to speak and you agree wordlessly.

Frank smiles gently. “Go give your statements and then relax. You deserve it.”

-||-

Giving your statements takes longer than you thought; they just keep going over and over it again, asking questions, making you clarify things, having you repeat different details; it’s exhausting. It feels like it’s been hours. Fortunately, for whatever reason, they’re letting Brendon stay with you now, probably because his statement is complete. But the first two hours without him…you weren’t lying when you told him you didn’t think you could be alone. They were awful.

But he’s here with you now, holding your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it, bringing you water, and later, coffee, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as the officer taking your statement continues to ask the same questions over and over again.

You try to calculate how long you’ve been here; lockdown started around 11:30, ended just before 12, you started with Brendon about 12:15, called to the office at 12:45, and you’ve been here in this room since 1:30…it’s easily dinner time; something your body confirms when your stomach growls quietly. The officer reassures you that you’re almost done, and she has you read your statement once, all the way through, and verbally confirm it is your honest account to the best of your ability to recall. She asks you to sign the written version, you agree out loud, and when you pass it back to her, she announces for the tape that this concludes the interview and statement procurement of Y/N Milton, and the tape is ending. She switches it off and rises to shake your hand.

“I know that wasn’t easy. Thank you for your patience and cooperation.” You nod, exhausted, and she leads you out of the station. “Let us know, preferably in the next 48-72 hours if you intend on pressing charges. The sooner the better,” she advises and you nod.

Brendon slips an arm around your waist and holds you close as you leave the station together. “It’s almost 7:30; should we pick something up and go home? I don’t think you want to go out…” he looks at you and you nod.

“Please. I really want a cheeseburger and red wine.”

He laughs but agrees. “An odd combination, but I’ll get it for you.”

-||-

You lean back against him, mouth open, and he pops a fry in your mouth. “My little baby bird,” he teases and you grin, taking a sip of the Cabernet he poured for you.

“If I were really your baby bird, you should have chewed that fry up for me,” you point out and laugh when he wrinkles his nose. “That’s what I thought.”

He takes a slow sip of bourbon (“A far more appropriate drink for a burger,” he tells you) and rests his chin on your head lightly. You snuggle back into his chest and he wraps an arm around your waist. “I’ll keep feeding you when you tip your head back if you promise to never ask me to chew your food for you again,” he says with a chuckle and you protest.

“No no Urie, I didn’t say I wanted you to do that; I said if I was really a baby bird, you would chew it for me.”

He takes another sip. “To be clear, neither of us wants the other to chew their food for them?”

“Correct.”

He leans down to kiss your cheek and you pull the blanket off the back of the couch and cover both of you with it. “Sleepy, baby?” His voice is soft now, and you nod, turning in between his legs to curl up, your head on his chest. “We could go to bed, honey.”

You shake your head and point with a flailing arm towards the TV. “No, you like this movie. I’m just gonna close my eyes for a minute. You can leave me down here if the movie ends and I’m still asleep.”

He scoffs and pokes your side. “As if I’d leave you down here on the couch when I’d be in our bed upstairs.”

“Love that you call it our bed,” you mumble as your eyes slip shut.

“Well, it is our bed,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “And it will be our bed for as long as you’ll have me.”

You purr contentedly and rub your head against his chest, arching into his touch. “That’s gonna be a while then,” you whisper, feeling yourself slip into sleep.

“Good. Sleep well, baby.” And his hand moving through your hair lulls you to a deep, blessedly dreamless sleep.

-||-

It feels strange to sleep in on a weekday, but not so strange that you get up early; you both sleep until the sunlight filters in and sneaks under your eyelids. He mumbles something, half-asleep, and rolls on top of you. “Good morning, baby.” His words are warm on your neck and you stretch under him, toes curling and moaning. “I got you a present,” he tells you and you grin sleepily, moving your hand down and curling it around his erection pressed to your hip. “No, baby, something else.” But he’s laughing and kisses you softly as you pout. “After, darling. I think you’re gonna want to focus on your gift.”

“Fine,” you mumble, pout still present. He kisses you again and crawls off of the bed, laughing when you prop yourself up on one arm and whistle. “Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave,” you call and he tells you you’re a dork from downstairs. “But I’m your dork,” you retort playfully.

He comes back in the room with a manila envelope with a red bow on it. “You are mine,” he agrees, crawling back into bed and sitting up against the headboard. You shift onto your stomach and rest your head on his thigh. “Come up here, baby, you’re gonna distract me with that pretty mouth down there. Don’t pout, we can play in a minute.”

You scoot up and he hands you the envelope. As you open it, he pulls you into his lap and wraps both arms around your waist. You pull out a slim stack of papers, confused until you read the top of the first page. STATE OF CONNECTICUT, Superior Court; Temporary Restraining Order. You turn to him, eyes wide. “Brendon,” you whisper with a soft smile, tears welling.

“You are the most important person in my life. And I want you safe. I understand if you don’t want to press charges against him, but I’d really like you to consider…” his voice trails off, worried, clearly doubting his gesture.

“Thank you.” Your voice is soft and you lean back against him, sighing happily. “I’m gonna fill this out later.” You turn over so you’re facing him and he runs his index finger over your lips.

“Later? What do you have planned for the immediate future?” You wink up at him and slide down between his legs, licking up his length and capturing him in your mouth, eyes sparkling. “Fuck, babygirl, your mouth,” he groans and you slide your lips down, tightening your hand around him briefly before reaching down to cup his balls and moaning when his hips twitch forward. You squeeze lightly, rolling your wrist, and he gasps, grabbing your hair. He doesn’t do anything with his grasp, just tugs a little to let you know how good you feel. “I don’t wanna come like this,” he tells you and you pull off of him, just letting your tongue caress his head. “Damn, Y/n,” he sighs, watching you.

“So,” you drawl, pulling back entirely, “how do you want to come?” You give him another quick lick, and smile. “Because I love when you come in my mouth. God, feeling you on my tongue, tasting you…” you cut yourself off with a moan, taking him back in your mouth and suckling hard, rolling your tongue over him, for a moment. “Fucking love it,” you moan, rocking back on your heels and licking your lips. “But you can come wherever you want,” you tell him, stroking him and crawling up to kiss him.

“God, you’re the best,” he moans, kissing you again. “The fucking best.” His hands move down your body to flip you over under him. “Not sure if I want that mouth, or…” and he kisses his way down from your mouth to your neck to your collarbone, pausing to nip at it, before continuing down to press warm kisses down your stomach and nuzzling your hip bone, fingers teasing you. “Or if I want this sweet pussy here.” He teases your folds with his tongue and you gasp, arching your back and moving against his mouth.

“Fuck Brendon, this was supposed to be me thanking you,” you whisper, and he laughs, massaging your hips.

“Oh, you will be. But in a minute; I wanna treat both of us first.” He licks you again, slower, like he’s savoring you. “Damn, babygirl, it’s like having dessert for breakfast…”

“Don’t wanna wait, fuck,” you moan, pushing gently against his shoulders until his tongue is flicking against nothing and he lets out a soft whine, reaching for you. “Lay down Bren,” you tell him, and he acquiesces, letting you push him flat on his back. “We can both win,” you whisper, kissing him hard before turning, straddling his face, and stretching yourself down to take his cock in your mouth.

“Oh god,” he groans into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your hips down lower, spreading you across his face. “You’re the fucking best,” he repeats, muffled, before working his tongue into you, adding two fingers and thrusting hard, making you moan around him and suck harder, mouthing over him faster. “Babygirl, honey, fuck, please,” he gasps, and you know he wants your hand, so you pull back, wrapping your hand around him and twisting gently, stroking him against your tongue. “Fuck yeah,” he whispers, spreading you with his two fingers and letting the tip of his tongue glide over you, circling over your clit.

“God, don’t stop,” you plead, rocking on his tongue; your own sliding down him and tightening your lips around him, letting your moans send vibrations through his body. “Curl your fingers just a lit-fuck, fuck, fuck, there, just like that,” you gasp, pulling back, and he grins against you, keeping his fingers working how you like, moaning when you take him again, pushing your hand out of the way with your lips as you move down. You want to tell him you’re about to come but you also don’t want to take your mouth off of him again, so you just whimper around him and reach a hand back, searching. He gives you his free hand, lacing your fingers together, and at his touch, you fall apart, coming hard. He groans, moving his fingers from inside you to grab your hip and pull you down so he can get all of you on his tongue. You can feel that he’s close, so you slide up and flick your tongue over the underside of his head, squeezing his balls and moaning when he gasps, bucking his hips.

“Yeah baby, gonna come for you,” he whispers, taking the hand from your hip and reaching forward to tangle in the ends of your hair. “Fuck, Y/n, now,” and his hips snap forward as he presses his head back into the pillow, moaning softly as you suck him through his climax, stroking him hard with your hand, encouraging him to keep coming for you. “Fuck, your mouth,” he moans, hips dropping back and legs going flat and you slump over him. “Come here baby, come up here,” he groans, patting the bed next to him.

You roll off of him and flip over, chest heaving and legs trembling as you lay flat on your back. “Don’t think I can move,” you laugh and he does too, turning and crawling down next to you so your heads are both toward the foot of the bed. He throws an arm across your waist, kissing your neck and hitching one of your legs up over him. “Fuck, that was good,” you sigh and he murmurs his agreement.

“Part of me wants to get you up on top of me again, go for a ride, but the other part of me just wants to lay here with you.”

“Mmmmmmmm, both sound great,” you purr, rolling onto your stomach to rest your head on his chest. “And we’ve got time,” you point out, wiggling up to kiss him.

“We do,” he agrees when you break apart. “But we do have to be in the car for an actual ride by 1pm.” You look at him, curiosity in your eyes. “It’s a surprise, so I’m not telling you anything.” He kisses your forehead. “But you need to pack, or I can pack for you if you want,” and he grins suggestively. You giggle and nod, looking up at him, your adoration visible. “Fuck, Y/n, love how you look at me,” he sighs, caressing your cheek.

“I love looking at you, so we both win,” you tease, kissing his chest. “You can pack for me; you know where we’re going slash what we’re doing, so you know better than I do, packing-wise.”

He wraps an arm around you, kissing the top of your head. “Gonna just dump your lingerie drawer into a suitcase.” You laugh and he grins. “You think I’m kidding.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sex, public sex, dirty talk.
> 
> Word count: 6.9k

It’s been maybe 3 hours and after dozing back off in each other’s arms, you’re awake and filling out the restraining order in bed while he packs for you, humming to himself in the closet.

“Hey, Y/n?” He sticks his head out of the closet, arms full of various colors of lace and silk. You laugh, shaking your head. “First of all, don’t laugh - I warned you. Second, do you have any preference in sweaters? I don’t want to pack something you hate…”

You set the paperwork aside, almost done and roll onto your side to face him. “This is going to sound bad, but I love all of my clothes. I’ve purged and purged and purged and what’s left is what I truly love. So anything you pack, I’ll be happy with,” you reassure him.

“Why would that sound bad? We all have our things we love; yours is clothes in general, mine is specifically dress shirts. It’s fine. No judgement.” He smiles at you. “Now, I’m going to retreat back here and finish packing. Truly no preference?”

“I’m yours to dress and play with,” you grin, stretching your arms over your head and rolling onto your back, the covers slipping down to your waist. “Wanna play?”

“Fuck yes, but…the packing…” he gestures feebly behind him and you shrug, giving him a winning smile.

“We’ll be quick.”

He drops the armful of lingerie and crosses to the bed, crawling on top of you and kissing you. “No, we won’t.”

“No,” you agree, hand snaking down into his sweatpants as his lips move across your neck and down your collarbone. “We won’t.”

-||-

The fucking marimba. It’s loud and he jolts back from between your legs, licking his lips. “No, fuck, please no,” you whine, gripping the sheets in one hand and his hair in the other. “Hit snooze, give me five more minutes, please, fuck, please.” You know you set an alarm for a reason, but you just want one more.

“I think your hands are cleaner than mine,” he murmurs with a wink, and you remember everything he’s done to you with those hands and that mouth in the last hour. Your eyes close and you remember him spreading you open for his tongue with both thumbs at one point, two fingers inside you at another, with two from the other hand in his mouth - switching hands every so often to keep your taste on his tongue and to build the tension by denying you contact, even for a brief moment. “So if you want to hit snooze…” he trails off, kissing your inner thigh and looking up at you longingly. “I wouldn’t complain.” He’s barely gotten the words out and your hand is flailing for the phone, hitting the screen at random. “Good girl,” he whispers and you moan, both at the praise and his tongue back on your clit and his fingers deep and twisting in you. He pulls back suddenly to meet your eyes. “But we can’t hit snooze again baby, we’re on a time limit. So I need you to be extra good for me and come, okay?”

“Oh fuck, Brendon,” you whimper, back arching. “Tell me to, tell me to come for you.”

“Goddamn baby, you’re so sexy, fucking come for me.” His voice is rough and he meets your eyes as his tongue flicks over you; it’s a chain reaction and you’re shrieking, writhing under him, hand in his hair, keeping him pressed against you as your legs tangle around his head and your back arches.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you pant, letting your head fall back against the pillow. “Oh, shit,” you gasp after a moment, letting your legs drop. “Fuck, sorry Brendon, you okay?”

He grins at you, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair. “Besides nearly being smothered by your pussy and/or choked by your thighs? I’m great. But damn, what a way to go that would have been.”

You blush, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry, why didn’t you move or struggle or say something?”

He laughs now, rolling onto his back, head level with your hips, and he looks up at you. “Victim blaming, Milton?” And when you protest, he shakes his head, laughing again. “I didn’t say anything or struggle or move because I was having a fan-fucking-tastic time down there.” The stupid fucking marimba starts again and he groans, rolling onto his stomach and gazing up at you. “And that’s our time. I need to finish packing and we need hit the road. Places to be and things to see, baby.”

“Can we at least shower?” You ask in a wheedling tone and he laughs, pushing himself off the bed and rising to lift you over his shoulder.

“But we can’t mess around, as much as I love you soaking wet and begging for it.”

-||-

“Okay, suitcase…check. Water bottles…check. Snacks…check. Sexy playlist to tease you with during the drive…check.” He closes the trunk of his car and opens your door. “Ready to rock, babygirl?”

“As ready as I can be!” You’re a little giddy and slip into your seat, buckling eagerly. “Let’s go Urie, no time to waste!” You clap your hands and he chuckles, crossing the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat.

“I love you,” he tells you, leaning over to kiss you.

“Mmmm,” you murmur, parting your lips and pressing closer. “I love you too.” You hold the embrace for a moment and then pull back. “Now drive! You said it yourself, places to be and things to see.”

“You’re cute,” he observes with a grin and clicks play on his phone as he puts the car into reverse.

-||-

You’re maybe thirty minutes in when he starts the game. “Okay, would you rather only be allowed to do foreplay with your mouth, or only be allowed to do foreplay with your hands?” He looks at you expectantly and you roll your eyes.

“Give me a hard one. Mouth.”

“A hard what now?” And he smirks when you laugh, shoving him lightly. “Okay, missionary or hands and knees?” You groan, tipping your head back in thought. “I know,” he says in faux-sympathy. “But you wanted it hard.”

“Fuck, Bren, you know I always want it hard.” You grin as he stifles a groan. “I mean…I come harder on my hands and knees but I can’t see your face like that…and I really like your face.” You sound conflicted and he laughs again, hand curving over your thigh.

“You can say hands and knees baby, I won’t be offended.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I still come from missionary and I get your face. Missionary.”

“Well, I’m flattered. Okay, would you rather be blindfolded or handcuffed? No seeing, or no touching?”

“Blindfolded. Easy. I can’t just not touch you.” You lean over and put your hand high on his thigh, lips moving close to his ear. His hands tense on the steering wheel and you smile, letting just the tip of your tongue brush his earlobe. “Love touching you.” There’s a sharp intake of breath from him and you decide to really fuck with him. You moan lightly in his ear, hand squeezing his thigh before slipping down to rub your hand over the bulge in his sweatpants. “Fucking love how you respond to my touch Bren; couldn’t possibly go without touching you.”

“Babygirl,” he warns, trying to keep his eyes open, “it’s not nice to tease the person operating a motor vehicle.”

“So pull over.” He eyes you cautiously and you look back at him, no hint of teasing on your face. “Pull over, baby,” you repeat, stroking him through his pants and he slows, pulling off the road into a wooded area and putting the car in park. Once the car is fully stopped, you unbuckle and clamber into the backseat. “Get back here,” you tell him, leaning forward, clutching at his shirt.

“Didn’t we agree no more public sex after the penny date incident?” But he’s opening his door anyway and moving to the back, sliding in next to you; you climb into his lap to kiss him deeply.

“I can’t remember,” you whisper against his lips with a smirk. You slide your dress up and he tugs his pants down as you shift onto your hands and knees, one hand bracing yourself against the window. “All I can think about is you.” And then one of his hands is on your waist while the other moves over your wetness before wrapping tightly around his dick, stroking himself roughly before pushing into you. “God, fuck yes,” you sigh, using the hand on the window to steady yourself as you rock back against him.

-||-

“Can’t get enough of you,” he groans, both hands on your waist to keep your hips at the right angle. “Always so hot and wet and willing and ready. I fucking love you,” he tells you and rocks into you harder.

You bite your lip and dip your back, pushing your hips higher and back against him. “I love you. Are you gonna come in me, Brendon?” He groans again and reaches one hand forward to tug at your hair. “I love that too,” you moan, bucking back against him. “When you pull my hair. Pull my hair and come in me, okay?”

“Damn, Y/n, have I told you how incredible you are?”

“Not lately, no.” He pulls out of you sharply and you cry out at the loss, but he’s settling back in a seat and pulling you around and on top of him so you’re facing him, grinding in his lap. “Fuck, I could come like this,” you whisper and he kisses your neck.

“I’m gonna. But I want you to come first for me, okay?” His voice is soft; it’s a sharp contrast to the quick, rough thrusts he’s delivering. “I need you to come for me; need to feel you let go.”

“Jesus Brendon,” and you’re leaning back against the passenger seat back for leverage as you ride him harder. “God, right there,” you gasp, hips snapping forward. “Yes, oh fuck, oh please, right there, I just need-!” His fingers press hard against your mound and push up; you feel it crash over you in waves and you lean forward to rest your forehead against his, eyes meeting his as you come. “For you baby; I’m coming for you,” you whimper and his hand moves up your back to your hair, tugging hard as he falls apart under you, hips rocking in sharp spasms, mouth on yours. When his body stills, he wraps both arms around you tightly to still your trembling.

“So fucking good,” he murmurs, nuzzling your ear and you nod. “You good, honey?”

You nod again, slumping forward and resting flush against him. His hands are moving soothingly over your back and you moan, eyes fluttering shut as he touches you. “Do you think we’ll always be like this?”

He looks confused. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

You shrug, biting his shoulder affectionately. “I don’t know. Why does any couple stop having insanely great sex?”

He considers this, kissing your temple. “I think,” he says after a moment, “this is just us. This is how we’re going to be. I mean, some people might say we’re in the honeymoon phase, but that phase is over when the first bit of drama hits, and we’ve had that and we still fuck like this. I’ve been waiting, and this is not an exaggeration, my entire cognizant life to find you. Since I knew what marriage and commitment was, I have been waiting for you. I’ve been waiting my entire sexually-active life, since I knew what I liked and wanted in bed, for you. I have wanted you, your mind and your personality and your spirit and your body, before I even knew you. I have known from the first time we made out on my couch that you were who I’d been waiting for. I don’t fuck you like this, make love to you like this, because I’m in some idealistic place about our relationship. I do these things because I want to do them with you the rest of my life. And I hope it’s mutual,” he adds at the end, looking unsure. You kiss him softly, and he lifts you off of him so you can settle more comfortably in his lap.

“It is,” you promise. “I don’t think it’s a honeymoon phase either; I agree. I think this is what our life is going to be like. And I’m perfectly okay with that; I’m more than okay with it. I’m looking forward to it. This is how I want my life, our life, to be. I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page. Even when we have kids, I think we’ll find a way to fuck like this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “When, hmmm?” He grins at you, before kissing up your neck to your earlobe. “I like ‘when.’”

You blush. “I mean…you do want kids, don’t you?”

“I didn’t, until you. But that makes sense; I wouldn’t want kids with the wrong person and I would want them with the right person. But I want what you want. If you want kids, I’m in. I’m on board. As many as you want. If you don’t, I’m okay with that too. But for what it’s worth, all cards on the table, I want kids with you.”

You snuggle down in his lap and kiss his jawline. “I want kids with you, too.”

He laughs lightly and strokes your hair. “Well, I think we’ll be able to satisfy that mutual desire. We’re very good at the first few steps in child creation,” he says with a grin and you laugh too, blushing again. “You thinking about it, babygirl?” He brushes your hair back and teases your earlobe with his tongue. “Thinking about how easy it’d be for me to get you pregnant, with all the fucking we do and how easily you get me coming?” You moan a little and kiss him hard, rocking in his lap. “Yeah, me too.” He puts a hand on your hip to still you. You both breathe heavily for a moment, just gazing at each other contentedly. “Okay. Ready to get back on the road?” He strokes your thighs on either side of his and you nod, slipping out of his lap and gratefully accepting the body wipe he’s passing you from the bag designated for road trip snacks that has been on the floor of the backseat.

“Why are there body wipes in the road trip snacks bag?” You’re confused and he grins, obviously pleased with himself.

“Figured I’d end up having you for a snack at some point and we’d both want a quick wipe-down before hitting the road again.”

You smile now too. “You know us well,” you comment, moving the wipe over your thighs. He takes it from you and spreads your legs wider, moving his hand over you gently and almost tenderly. “Thank you baby,” you whisper and he nods, tossing it in the plastic shopping bag you agreed to throw trash, before cleaning himself off with a fresh one.

“Alright, ready to go?” And when you nod, you both slip out of the back seat and into your seats up front. “And,” he glances at his watch, “we’re still on track,” he announces and you look confused. You’re sure your off-road adventure would have fucked his timeline. “I accounted for some breaks,” he admits, kissing your hand with a wink. “And as long as we’re there before a certain time, we’re okay.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where we’re going?” And he shakes his head, grinning. “Fine,” you sigh playfully. “Let’s keep driving then.”

-||-

Another hour has gone by and you’re just staring out the window in awe. “I don’t even care where you’re taking me at this point, just this view there is amazing.” He smiles over at you and takes your hand, squeezing it lightly. “Seriously, who knew leaves could even look like this? We don’t get this in Texas, nothing even close.”

“It’s gorgeous, I know.” He checks the mile marker and smiles, squeezing your hand excitedly. “We’re almost there.”

“Okay, I really want to know where we’re going because you have not consulted a map or a GPS once,” you tell him, clearly impressed.

“I’m just that good, baby,” he says with a broad smile and you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder and resting your linked hands in your lap. He checks the thermometer on the car dash and frowns. “It’s getting colder, honey, do you want me to grab something from the suitcase for you? It’s probably going to be low 60s, high 50s by the time we arrive.”

You shrug, snuggling into his shoulder. “I’ll be okay. Besides, I assume we’ll be stopping wherever we’re sleeping tonight before anything else, so I can change then?” He nods. “I’ll be okay then. Thank you though.” You raise both of your hands so you can kiss his. “I appreciate you thinking about me.”

“I’m always thinking about you,” he says with a soft smile, eyes still on the road. “Whether the time is appropriate or not.” His playlist has been playing on low in the background and his eyes light up as he catches a snippet of the middle of a song. “I love this song!”

You cock your head to one side. “Wait, do you think this song is sexy?” You’re confused and a bit amused.

He’s drumming on the steering wheel with his thumbs, singing along under his breath. “How the mighty fall, the mighty fall, when they fall in love…” he turns to look at you now. “Maybe not so much the words, but the music. And you have to admit, Big Sean’s part is fantastic.” You laugh a little and he grins at you, singing along. “I’m either fucking or working, so the grind don’t stop.”

“Well if that isn’t you, I don’t know what is,” you concede, scooting over in your seat to press closer to him.

“And hell yeah I’m a dick, girl, a-dick-ted to you.” He kisses your temple and turns back to the road. “Okay, we can change it now.”

You giggle, closing your eyes. “No, I trust your judgment in playlist curation. You are the one with a masters in music, after all.” He laughs and knocks his head against yours lightly.

“In classical composition and instrumentation, not necessarily modern,” he reminds you, and you shrug. “But I’ll accept the praise.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “Besides, I like hearing the music you consider sexy.”

“Urie. No,” you try to not laugh when the next song comes on and he looks offended. “You can’t be serious.”

“First of all, I am. Second of all, you know this song?”

You stare at him blankly, and, deadpan, recite. “I’d love to make you wet, In between your thighs cause, I love when it comes inside you.” He laughs, clearly delighted by your knowledge. “Of course I know this song.”

“And what’s wrong with it, may I ask? I have said those exact words to you, or something pretty close to it.” He smirks, pressing your tangled hands down between your thighs.

“Yeah…but…that’s different,” you protest, giggling. He raises an eyebrow and you sigh, exasperated. “That’s shit you say in bed, not sing out loud.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I present to you, for a counterpoint, the masterpiece that is Lil Wayne’s Lollipop - ‘Shawty wanna’ hump, you know I’d like to touch ya lovely lady lumps.’” You wince and nudge him with your shoulder.

“I never said Lollipop was better, or even good,” you point out. “Just that Untitled is not sexy.”

“I have millions of fans who say you’re wrong,” he murmurs, taking an exit off the highway and leaning over to kiss you at a red light.

“Mmmmm, they’re entitled to their wrong opinion,” you tease, and he laughs, kissing you again. “Where are we?”

“Changing the subject because you know you won’t win the fight for D’Angelo’s dignity?” He winks at you and you scoff playfully. “I’m not telling. But we’re almost there, I promise.”

-||-

“What the fuck.” You’re speechless after that and you turn to him, staring. He grins, rolls down the window, and punches in an access code so the gate in front of you swings open. “Brendon, seriously, you have some explaining to do.”

“All in good time, baby, all in good time.” He drives slowly, and you’re stunned, staring from the windshield to your side window and back to him. “You like it?”

“It’s stunning. I mean, that’s not even a good enough word. It’s breathtaking. That’s still not right. Brendon, where are we?”

He follows a long driveway and parks in the back of what you can only imagine is a huge house, given the back of it, by a large barn. Wordlessly, he gets out and crosses to open your door. You accept his hand and he leads you inside after unlocking the back door. You’re in the biggest kitchen you’ve ever seen, and he drops the keys on the counter and continues to lead you through the house. You’re up two flights of stairs and through what you think is a master bedroom but you’re moving so quickly and he’s pushing through a set of double doors, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

You’re standing on a balcony overlooking a huge pool and a sprawling backyard - although that feels like an understatement. It’s a field, really, and you’re 90% sure that’s a pond to the far left. “Are those -” you turn to look at him, stunned. “Are those mountains?”

“Little ones.”

“Brendon…” You’re speechless. “Where…?”

He wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses the top of your head. “Welcome to the Urie East Coast Compound.”

You blink at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been totally forthright. I didn’t end up teaching in Connecticut by chance; my parents loved hiking and fishing and cross-country skiing and bought this place when I was 5 or 6. And we came here every winter break that they were alive. So when they passed and I could choose where to go, I knew I wanted to be here - or close to here. Some of my best memories with them are here on this property, and since they owned it outright, I do too.”

“The Urie East Coast Compound,” you repeat, a little stunned and he laughs awkwardly again.

“Yeah, I don’t really call it that. I mean, that’s what they named it. I guess it’s its name. I don’t want to change it. But I don’t really call it anything? I just come up here to be by myself during winter breaks and think. About stuff and them and stuff. I’ve never had to call it anything since I’ve never brought anyone here.”

You turn in his arms and hug him tightly. “Thank you.”

He runs his hand over your back, holding you close. “For what?” You tip your head up to look at him and smile, going on tiptoe to kiss him.

When you part, a little breathlessly, you tell him, “for sharing this place with me. It means so much to you and we could have gone anywhere with this time but you chose to bring me here. It means a lot to me and I love you.”

“Well, I intend on sharing everything with you eventually,” he reminds you and kisses the top of your head. “Do you want a tour?” You nod and he grins. “Well, we’d better get you a sweater then, there’s a lot to see beyond these walls.”

-||-

“Ahhhh my little Han Solo,” he grins, watching you zip up your boots and adjust your fleece vest. You stand up and roll your eyes.

“Hey buddy, you packed for me, so you don’t get to make fun of my clothes.” He puts his hands up, still smiling.

“I wasn’t teasing! I really like this look.” He crosses the room and pulls you in close, nuzzling your ear. “It’s sexy.” He pulls back a little and scans you up and down. “Especially because I can see the lace through your shirt.” You laugh and shove him lightly.

“You cannot.”

“It’s white and really intricate.” He runs his hands down your arms, feeling the soft cotton of your long-sleeve shirt under his fingers. “And,” he leans in close again. “It’s begging for me to take it off of you.” He runs his hands up under your shirt.

“Later, Urie,” you tease, taking both of his hands and pulling them down. “You promised me a tour.”

He nods decisively. “That I did. Let’s go Milton. We’ll start outside and work our way back to the house, so I can take you up on your promise.”

You’re outside and headed to the barn when he turns to you. “You’re good with a little speed, yes?”

“I’m not doing meth with you,” you tease and he laughs, pulling you into the barn and lifting you onto a wooden table with a row of helmets behind it.

“No, dork.” And then he’s fitting a helmet on your head and checking it for snugness. “Feels okay?” You nod and he smiles. “Good. Give me one second.” He puts his own on and heads towards the back of the barn.

You look around the barn, assuming you’ll be going on horseback, but you can’t see any horses. “Urie, what are we doing?” There’s a soft purr as he approaches and you start laughing. “A four-wheeler?” He grins and hops off it, lifting you from the table and placing you onto the seat.

“Is this okay?” He looks worried and you nod, patting the seat in front of you. “Okay.” He smiles, slipping back on and you wrap your arms around his waist tightly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning back to knock his helmet against yours lightly. “Hold on.”

-||-

“This,” he tells you, parking the four-wheeler, “is the most secluded part. The private guest cabin.” You eye it and look back at him.

“This is the guest cabin?” He nods and laughs kindly at your expression. “This is easily three bedrooms itself.” He nods again.

“And two and a half baths,” he adds, taking your hand and leading you inside and around the upstairs, opening doors and gesturing vaguely. “It’s where I usually stay if I’m just trying to get away for a little bit.” You look around, taking it all in, clearly impressed. “But we’ll be in the main house for this little vacation,” he tells you, leading you back downstairs and outside.

“Now,” he tells you as he starts the machine again, “the hiking trails. These were where my mom spent most of her time if she wasn’t with us or in the kitchen.” He goes slower this time, so you can take it all in. You reach the peak, and he’s right, they’re moderate hills, not mountains. But they’re beautiful and the view they grant is awe-inspiring.

“It’s gorgeous,” you murmur, and he hears you over the engine, nodding.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is. She loved it out here.” He’s quiet for a moment and you hug him tightly from behind. He relaxes a little into your embrace, sighing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “Ready to keep going?”

“If you are.”

“To the pond!” He exclaims, and you know his faking the enthusiasm but now isn’t the time to call him out. He jerks the handles sharply and you’re headed back down, pressing your body to him.

“Your dad was the fisherman, I presume?” You ask when he brakes, parking by the dock of a large pond. He nods.

“He wanted me to be more into it, but I was more into the hiking, if I would ever leave the piano. I wish I had spent more time with him.” He sighs again and you lean forward, kissing his cheek. “Sorry to be all gloomy,” he tells you and you squeeze him.

“Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel things,” you tell him, and he nods, stepping off of the four-wheeler and holding out a hand to you. You slip off of it and take his hand, curling into his side under his arm. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” you tell him again. “It means a lot to me.”

He looks down at you affectionately. “Y/n, I intend to share my life and everything in it with you.” Your breath catches in your throat; he’s said it before and said other things that imply that before, but here, standing with him where he essentially grew up, on land and property his parents left him…it means that much more to you. “Come on,” he gestures back to the four-wheeler. “It’s getting colder. Let’s get you inside, or at least to the heated pool.”

“Heated pool?” You look intrigued and he laughs, kissing you softly.

“Heated pool,” he confirms with a smile.

-||-

“You’ve seen the kitchen,” he says as you step back inside after dropping the four-wheeler off in the barn. “But I think I rushed you through the rest of it. Informal living room,” and he gestures to a room painted in a soft yellow. “Formal living room, the difference being the fireplaces,” he says with a smile. “Sunroom through those doors, we’ll have breakfast there,” he promises, and leads you upstairs. “Guest room, as you can tell from the rose-print wallpaper.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “Roses not your thing?”

“They’re fine, but not for my wallpaper, thank you.” He opens the door across the hall. “My room, or what was my room I guess. I replaced the bed and updated the decor a bit. Trust me, it used to look like a small boy’s room.” He studies it. “I suppose it’s just another guest room now. Come on.” He beckons you down the hall. “My parents’ - I mean. The master suite.” He falters and you hug him. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t call it my parents’ room anymore, should I? Not if we’re going to be in there from now on.”

You kiss his cheek. “I don’t care where we sleep. We can stay in your old room if that’s what you want.” He considers this and shakes his head a little.

“No, we’ll be in there. I got a new mattress,” he murmurs in your ear, “and new sheets. Don’t worry.”

You laugh and shove him playfully. “I wasn’t even thinking about that,” you tell him and he smiles, leading you into the bathroom. You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips. “I love clawfoot bathtubs,” you tell him, and he smiles. “I can’t explain it but I just love them.”

“Well, it’s all yours.” He turns again and leads you back out to the balcony. “And we’ve been here before.”

You look down over the property and are rendered speechless again. “It’s just…it’s all so…wow.”

“I know. When it really hit me, how lucky I was to grow up like I did, I was…yeah.” He nods a little. “Yeah.” You’re both silent for a minute and he kisses the top of your head. “Pool? Or are you hungry?”

You think for a moment. “Pool first, then food.” He nods and you turn back to the bedroom where he left the suitcase.

“Whatcha doing, baby?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Getting my swimsuit,” you tell him, giving him a weird look.

“Good luck. I didn’t pack you one.” He smirks a little and you laugh, pulling your vest off and unzipping your boots.

“Well, then I guess your wish from earlier is granted.” He gives you a puzzled look and you grin, tugging your shirt off over your head and hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings. “You get to see me in this little white thing.”

“Fuck, Milton,” he groans, taking in the white lace one piece you’ve had on all afternoon, and he lifts you over his shoulder and heads for the stairs. You’re shrieking with laughter and his grip on you tightens as he goes downstairs. “Don’t squirm too much, babygirl, I want us to make it to the pool,” he tells you and you nod, holding your breath to keep still.

“Do we have to wait for it to get hot?” He’s deposited you on your feet by the pool and he shakes his head.

“No, I can turn it on from my phone. It should be a giant bathtub by this point,” he muses, and you stick a toe in, sighing happily. “Good?” You nod and step back, gauging the depth. He must be able to read your mind. “10 feet at this end, 20 in the middle, and 25 at the far end. But there’s seating.”

“Great,” you say with a smile and step back again before diving in. When you come up, he’s naked and staring at you, a little slack-jawed. “What?”

“You have great form,” he observes. “And you’re sexy as hell.” You laugh and push your hair back. “Yeah, don’t do that, baby. You’re already tempting me.”

“Good,” you grin and go into a lazy backstroke. “Come get me.” He dives in after you and catches you easily. “Hi,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist while you both tread.

“Hi babygirl.” He kisses you hard with his hands in your hair and because he stopped treading, you both slip under the surface. It takes a moment to register; you’re still kissing under the water, but he pulls back and you both break through, breathing hard. “Let’s go sit,” he suggests, laughing a little.

-||-

“Baby, Bren, we should, fuck,” you gasp as his lips move down your chest.

“I agree,” he murmurs, lips closing over your nipple through the lace, and you laugh, trying to catch your breath.

“You didn’t let me finish. We should go inside.”

“Are you cold?” He looks worried and you shake your head.

“No, but if we’re going to have sex…” you trail off, moaning again when he moves back up to kiss your neck.

“Which we are,” he points out, tongue teasing the pulse point behind your ear.

“Right, okay, since we’re going to have sex, shouldn’t we be…I don’t know…not in your pool?”

“I don’t mind,” he murmurs, and you slip off the bench to wrap your legs around him, wanting to feel how hard he is. You whimper a little and he rests his forearms on the bench behind you so you’ll both stay above water, even with you clinging to him and rubbing against him. “You like that, babygirl?” You nod, lips parted in pleasure as he rocks back against you. “You don’t really wanna go inside, do you?”

“B, have you ever had sex in a pool?” He shakes his head and you grin. “It’s not gonna go well for me, down there. You’d think with all of this water it would help, but it’s only gonna…well, it’s going to do the opposite of what we need.”

“Mmmm,” he nods. “I see.” He considers this for a moment. “And it’s too cold to just lay you out on the pool deck,” he muses.

“Hey, we can tease and touch all we want out here,” you tell him. “But if you want to actually be in me, we need to actually be inside,” you say with a grin and he laughs, nodding.

“Deal.” He rocks his hips up into yours and you moan again, grinding back down on him. “Can I touch you?” You nod, and he shifts to rest on one arm while the other snakes down between you to rub soft circles on your clit through the lace. “Probably can’t go in, probably just have to do this, outside, yeah?” His voice is soft and you nod, reaching down to grasp his erection. “Fuck, baby,” he groans and bucks into your hand, fingers moving faster over you.

“B, we’re gonna need to go inside,” you whisper, grinding down against his fingers. “Need you. In me.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little breathless. “Yeah, we need to go inside like now.”

-||-

You don’t make it far; he’s got you spread out on the formal dining room table, feet on a chair as he kneels on the ground between your legs, mouth moving hungrily over you, tongue pressing insistently against your lace-covered heat. “Gotta get this off, fuck,” he groans, and you’re both fumbling with straps and buttons.

“Got it,” you say triumphantly and you push it down your chest and your stomach, raising your hips so he can pull it off the rest of the way.

“So fucking sexy on,” he whispers, “but so much better on the floor.” He spreads your legs wider so he can spread his tongue over you entirely, long strokes.

“Yeah, B, I like that,” you gasp, trying not to thrust against his face, hands moving over your chest and through your hair. “Long, soft strokes, just tease me baby, really get me begging you for your cock.”

“Fuck, babygirl,” he gasps against you, eyes shut. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I,” you moan, arching your back, “have some idea. Fuck, I want you.”

“How badly?” He kisses the inside of your thigh, rubbing two fingers over you and smiling up at you. You moan and rock forward while you reach down and grab his hand, forcing his fingers into you. “Goddamn, Y/n,” he whispers, resting his head against your thigh, watching you work his hand against you. “You gonna use me baby, fuck my hand til you get off?” You nod breathlessly, biting your lip. “You know,” he murmurs, “I could help you with that. All you have to do is ask.”

“Yeah?” You look down at him longingly, moving his hand in slow circles, grinding into his palm. “If I ask real nicely, you’ll take me upstairs and fuck me til your neighbors hear me begging for more?”

“Babygirl, the closest neighbors are easily 10 miles from here.”

You smirk down at him. “I know.”

-||-

“Oh my god,” you gasp, fingers tangling in your hair. “This is the best purchase you’ve ever made.”

He smiles and nips at your hipbone before moving back in, tongue rolling over you at the new angle and thumb rubbing your clit. “Told you,” he moans, “told you I’d get you a wedge.” He laughs a little breathlessly, propped up on his elbow, mouth moving mercilessly. You shove your fist against your mouth, a high-pitched whine being smothered, and he reaches up to move your hand. “No one’s gonna hear you babygirl, just me. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“Fuck, Brendon,” you gasp, eyes fluttering. “I can’t - it’s so - your tongue is just - god, fuck me, please, fuck, take me baby, fill me, fuck me, god, I need it, I need you, please.” The last word comes out a broken moan and he stops licking your clit and pulls back, crawling over you. He kisses you tenderly, and you can feel the warm weight of his erection pressing into your hip.

“You want me, honey?” You nod, breathlessly. “You gonna let me hear how good I’m making you feel?” You nod again, begging him. “God, Y/n, fucking love it when you beg me,” he murmurs, sidling back to center and kissing you again while he rubs his length against your slick heat, getting both of you ready. “Let me hear you,” he whispers once more as he pushes into you and you give him exactly what he wants, head tipped back and low moans pouring forth.

“God, yes, fuck me,” you cry, the angle from the wedge under you so good; you’re taking him so much further than normal, and he’s hitting all of the right spots, even ones that normally only happen if he’s taking you from behind. “Brendon, god, yes, fuck my pussy, I’m gonna come so fucking hard, I can feel it baby, please.”

“Come on me,” he tells you, going harder and faster, a hand tangled in your hair near your scalp so the tugging isn’t a sharp pain but a dull ache. “Come on me babygirl, and I’ll come for you; let me come for you Y/n,” and he’s almost begging you.

“Jesus, right there,” you whimper, spreading your legs a little more and he reaches down to rub at your clit. “Yes!” You don’t mean to scream but you do and he moans happily when you come, hard, your walls clenching around him.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, leaning down and biting your shoulder as he finishes, and you take over, one hand clawing his back and the other in his hair, rocking roughly up into him, fucking him through his orgasm. “Yes, baby, so fucking tight, fucking love you,” he groans and you can feel him throb inside you, a second wave bringing sharp moans out of both of you.

You’re shaking under him with the exertion and he moans, slumping over you as he pulls out. “Fuck,” you moan, and he nods, kissing your neck. “Oh god,” you gasp, writhing under him, rocking against his length. “Don’t do that unless you want to make me come again; fuck I’m like a stretched rubber band - one bit of pressure in the right spot and I’ll snap for you.”

“What a tempting offer,” he murmurs, but moves his lips and rolls to one side, bringing you with him so he’s flat on the bed and you’re sprawled over him. “You want food, baby?”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, dirty talk, sex, oral sex, feelings.   
> Word count: 4.3k

“You want food, baby?”

You shake your head, still breathing hard. “Sleep. Food is probably necessary, but I don’t think I can move, so sleep.” He laughs and kisses your forehead and running a hand down your back. “Goodnight baby,” you murmur, closing your eyes as he whispers it back to you, tugging the covers up over you both.

-||-

“Honey. Y/n.” He nuzzles your cheek, his arm draped across your waist.

“Mmmmmffph.” You groan, rolling over and burying your face in his chest. “Whaaaat?”

“It’s 8am. We’ve been in bed for 9 hours. I’m gonna make breakfast.” Your head shoots up and he laughs. “You want breakfast?” When you nod, he rolls on top of you. “Whatcha want?”

You think for a moment, wrapping your arms around him. “Mmmmmmmmm. Literally anything you make. You’re so good in the kitchen.”

He winks, kissing your forehead. “Yeah, I am.” You laugh and shove him lightly. “I’ll go get food together. You come down when you’re ready, yeah?” You scramble up and scoop his shirt off the floor, throwing it on quickly.

“I’m ready.”

-||-

“Students, students, please!” The poor substitute looks frazzled and she’s been trying to get the room under control for just 10 minutes. “Ms. Milton would not be happy to get a report about your behavior,” she declares and that gets their attention.

“Speaking of Ms. Milton,” Jessica declares, “guess who else was out yesterday and is out today?” Mrs. Crowder, the sub, is trying to talk over her and is failing. She’s too kind.

Brian smirks and leans back in his chair. “Mr. Urie, I’m guessing?”

Jessica nods giddily. Anna leans forward, eyes bright. “Where do you think they are?” Mrs. Crowder has given up, throwing her hands up in frustration. Any other day, the class would be sympathetic and cooperate but today, with Ms. Milton and Mr. Urie being gone, the whispers have been upgraded to full-blown rumors and the rest of the class is sucked in to the conversation. “Because,” and Anna leans forward, eyes bright. “I have a theory.” Caroline rolls her eyes and Anna snaps at her, “Shut up Caroline, it’s a good theory.”

Brittany chimes in. “It is a good theory.”

Anna waves her hand at Brittany, clearly trying to get said good theory out into the world. “I think they’re eloping.” Caroline shrieks. Brian is laughing. Mrs. Crowder is talking again and no one is listening. Anna nods. “It makes sense. I mean,” and she looks at Brittany, “you saw how she reacted when I said I was thinking about kissing Mr. Urie.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Eric leans forward now, giving Anna a weird look. She blushes and waves the comment away.

“She looked like she was going to burst into tears and then everything happened with the lockdown, and I heard it was her ex who showed up, threatening to shoot Mr. Urie if he didn’t back off-“ the sub is protesting and Anna just gets louder, “-and neither of them have been at school since. And we all know they’ve been living together; he drives them both here every morning, the before-school German class sees them arrive and practically devour each other before coming inside. So yeah, I think they’re eloping.” She sits back smugly and Caroline rolls her eyes again.

“Why would they be eloping?”

“Because,” Anna drawls, clearly about to play her trump card, “Ms. Milton is pregnant.”

The room explodes.

-||-

“Hey, B?” You take another bite of French toast and nudge him with your toe.

“Yes baby?” He looks back at you, smiling. “What can I get you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t need anything. I was just just curious…” Brendon arches an eyebrow, encouraging you to go on. You blush. “No, it’s dumb.”

He frowns a little and beckons you over. “Come here.” He holds out a hand and you take another bite before rising and taking his hand. “Closer, baby.” You obligingly take another step towards him. “All the way here, smartass,” he grins and pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him. “That’s better. Now,” he murmurs, hands running up your thighs. “What’s dumb? Because I promise it’s not, but I wanna hear it.” You shake your head, blushing again. “Milton, so pretty when you’re embarrassed,” he teases. “Don’t make me coax it out of you. You know I’ll be very convincing.”

You laugh, burying your face in his neck. “There’s a part of me that’s a little tempted to hold out just to see how you’ll get it out of me.” He pulls you closer, whispering in your ear and you sigh happily.

“And the other part of you?” He murmurs after a particularly filthy promise, lips curving into a smile.

“Damn, if that’s your offer, fuck the other part of me,” you whisper back, wiggling in his lap.

“Oh Milton,” he sighs, hands sliding up your thighs. “You know I will.”

-||-

“So I think we should throw them a reception-slash-baby shower when they get back,” Anna says with a little clap and Jessica lets out a yelp of glee and Brian jumps.

“Jesus Jessica, warn a guy.” He looks at Anna. “So what do you need from us?” Brittany looks a little stunned. Caroline is speechless. Anna clearly doesn’t know what to say. They hadn’t anticipated any of the guys even wanting to help. “I mean, you said we should throw them a reception. Which means we need to do something. So what do you want us to do?”

Anna sits back in her chair, thinking. “Well, they have the same planning period. We need to get one of them to the other’s classroom…Ms. Milton usually goes to his room I think.” Eric snorts and mutters something about Anna being a stalker. She ignores him. “So if we get Ms. Milton’s second block students on board, they can double back after she leaves and get everything set up in her room. Then we just need to get both of them back to her room.”

Caroline, for the first time, seems on board. She is thinking out loud, but she’s definitely on board. “We just need someone to leave something important in her room second block. They will go to the band room to look for her and get her to come back to her room, and Mr. Urie won’t be able to resist, he’ll go wherever she goes. Boom. They both end up in her room and we are good to go.”

Brian nods. “I don’t have a third block, I intern in the media center.” Caroline gives him a surprised look and he grins. “Shut up, I like books. Anyway, I don’t have a third block. If someone in her second block can keep the door open, or at least unlocked, I can get everything set up.”

Brittany nods eagerly. “I have first lunch, I can help. I’ll meet you in her room.”

Anna is almost vibrating with enthusiasm. “This is perfect. Caroline, you have culinary second block, so can you get a cake into the fridge? You don’t have to get or make the cake, but could you get a cake into the fridge?” Caroline nods thoughtfully. Anna continues. “We don’t need to go all out with decorations but we should do something. Now, do we go with white for the wedding or do we try to guess the gender of the baby?”

Eric chimes in. “We should do white for the wedding. We don’t want to guess at a gender and be wrong. That would be awkward. Besides, they might not even know yet. When can you find out the gender?”

Mrs. Crowder speaks and everyone jumps; they’d forgotten she was there. “As early as 12 weeks but typically 16 or 20 weeks.”

Brittany is running the numbers in her head and she shakes her head. “No, they would have had to be sleeping together since like day one of school for that to work. I don’t think they’ll know what they’re having yet.”

Eric leans forward. “Do we even know for sure she’s pregnant?”

-||-

You’re both naked, only wearing sunglasses, precariously balanced on a pool float, laughing when it tips one way or another and you both shift to keep it stable. “Get closer,” he urges and hitches one of your legs up around his waist. “The closer you are, the less surface area we take up so the less tippy we’ll be or something.”

“Makes sense,” you agree, pressing yourself flush against him and tangling your arms around his neck. “God, you feel good,” you say with a sigh when his arms encircle your waist.

“Right back at you,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “You’re so soft and smooth and warm, all the time. And wet too, usually,” he adds with a grin. “You wet for me, baby?” Carefully, he hoists you a little higher and you tilt your hips forward so if you’re wet, he’ll feel it against his pelvis. He can tease your collarbone with you up here and when you press against him, he moans a little. “Yeah,” he sighs, rocking his hips subtly. “That’s my girl.”

“You just gonna praise me or are you gonna take care of your girl too?” You tease and he bites your collarbone lightly.

“You know I’m gonna take care of you, honey.” He presses you closer to him so your slick folds envelope his stiffening length and you whimper as he slides along you, lips moving across your neck. “But we’ve gotta be careful, so we stay u-“

The float tips and you give a shriek of surprise when you both topple over into the water. When you break through the water, you start laughing and he slings one arm over the float and the other around your waist, keeping you both above the surface. “What was that last part?” You ask with a grin, and he tickles your side, pulling you in for a kiss. “Stay up? Is that what you were going to say?” You ask, wrapping your legs around him. “Yes, that sounds right.” You kiss his neck, moving up to his jaw, running a hand through his wet hair, tugging lightly so he moans and then bringing his mouth forward to yours. “We definitely want to stay,” and you reach a hand down to stroke him, smiling against his lips when he rocks into your grasp. “Up.”

“We,” he murmurs, “need to go inside. Or at least get out of the water. Because I,” he groans a little when your hand squeezes around his dick, “want to make you feel good.”

“That’s such wonderful news. Because I want to feel good.” His fingers slip between your legs and you gasp when he rubs his thumb around your opening, pushing in lightly. “We gotta go inside,” you repeat, grinding down on his hand. “Please.”

He grins and kisses your forehead. “To the ladder.” With that, he releases you and the pool float and you both swim for the ladder. “Damn,” he moans when you climb out before him and you laugh, turning once you’re on the edge and holding your hands out to him so he’ll scoop you up into his arms.

“Take me inside and make me say your name,” you whisper.

-||-

Anna falters. Of course she doesn’t know for sure if Ms. Milton is pregnant. How would she? “Yes.” Everyone, including Mrs. Crowder, is looking at her expectantly. “She took the pregnancy test here at school. I saw it in her trash can.” She swears internally; that was a blatant lie. But she can’t admit she doesn’t know, her whole theory will be blown. And besides, she’s pretty sure. Why else would Ms. Milton have looked so nauseous before the lockdown, and why would she have been clutching her stomach like that? She knows. She just doesn’t have proof.

Everyone relaxes. “Okay. So what do we want on the cake?” Brittany is taking notes. “I’m gonna go by the store later and get stuff to make a cake.” Jessica looks excited.

“Brit, that’s a great idea; your cakes are so good! It should say something like ‘Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Urie!’ …or something. Is that lame? Do we want to reference the baby?” Anna shakes her head.

“They probably don’t want us to know, so let’s just leave it at the marriage part.” And this way, if she does happen to be wrong, she thinks, at least the fallout won’t be that bad.

-||-

You made it farther than the dining room table this time, coming in from the pool. You even made it upstairs. “I’m gonna get rug burn,” you declare, giggling as you rock over his face, knees pressing into the hallway carpet while his hands hold your hips. “But it’s fucking worth it, god Brendon, your tongue.” He was carrying you inside and had set you down for the stairs, but while he was tugging you down the hallway to bed, he tripped and brought you down on top of him. Not one to waste time, you immediately started kissing him, which led to him telling you that he wanted you on his face, and now here you are.

“Fuck,” you moan when he shifts and his tongue goes flat against you. “I love that,” you tell him breathlessly. “Gonna let me ride your tongue? You gonna let me use your mouth to make myself come on your face?” He groans, nodding a little and his eyes shining. “God, Brendon, I’m gonna come so hard like this, just for you baby, all over you, all over your tongue, gonna let you taste me, Brendon,” you promise him, angling yourself forward so you’re leaning over him, putting more pressure on your clit. “B, can you…?” But he seems to know what you want, no, need; with your hips tipped up, he can slide two fingers into you from behind while you rub yourself roughly on his tongue. “Oh fuck,” you moan, a deep guttural sound. “More, give me more, god, Brendon, fuck me with three, please.” He adds a third finger and you shriek a little, the hand in his hair you’re using to keep his head in place tightening. “Jesus Christ, yes, just like that,” you declare. “You touching yourself, baby? I hope you are; I know you’ve got three fingers deep in me but you’ve got another hand you can be using to jerk yourself off.” He moans again, barely nodding; he doesn’t want to mess up your rhythm. “Yeah baby? You jacking off to your girl riding your face, grinding her clit on your tongue?” He mumbles something, distorted with his tongue so occupied, so you raise your hips slightly. “What was that, baby?”

He gasps a little; his breath is hot on you. “I said, hell yeah babygirl, you know I am. Now I don’t mean to be bossy, but stop asking dumb questions like that and fuck my face.” You can hear the smile in his voice though, and then his tongue is snaking back out into place against your pussy.

“Ooh, shit,” you groan, grinding down harder against his waiting tongue and bracing yourself on your forearms. “Yes sir.”

Between his fingers fucking you hard, the sound of him jerking off under you, and your own low moans from riding his tongue, it doesn’t take you long before you’re tensing up, crying out, and shaking with your release. Part of you wants to just collapse, slump over him, grind your way slowly down from your peak, but you can hear his hand picking up speed and he must be gripping himself tighter too, so you muster all of your strength and turn yourself around to close your lips over the tip of his cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasps and he’s coming hard, groaning your name. You have to really focus and breathe strategically to swallow everything at this angle; he’s trembling under you, hips bucking and chest heaving. Even when he’s no longer filling your mouth, he’s shuddering involuntarily, and you pull off, licking your lips with satisfaction. “My god,” he whispers weakly, patting the carpet next to him. “Come here babygirl.”

You stand instead, legs quivering a little, but you hold out your hands to him and he takes them, standing too. “Bed,” you tell him simply, and you stagger down the rest of the hall together before collapsing sideways over the bed in the master suite. He groans, rolling onto his side to face you.

“I love you,” he whispers and you smile, kissing him softly.

“I love you too.” He pulls you closer, the sheen of sweat on both of your bodies making you both shiver a little, so he grabs the throw blanket from the edge of the bed to cover you both. “What does it feel like?” Your eyes find his and he looks at you curiously. “When you come. What does it feel like?”

He laughs tiredly and runs a hand down his face. “It feels like I’m going to fucking die at times, it’s so good. Like everything in me goes tight and there’s so much tension and then, thank fuck, it all just releases and I’m coming in you and I just want to grab you and hold you and hang on for dear life and never stop. It’s even better when you come at the same damn time because while all of my tension is being released, your pussy grips my cock so hard and practically pulls my orgasm out of me; I’m not falling off a cliff - I’m being dragged off a cliff by you and I fucking love it and all of that grabbing and holding you is that much better because you’re clawing at me too, clutching me too, coming hard on me, gasping my name, and the house could be burning down around us and it would take me a solid minute to process what was happening or even do anything because I’m just…I’m not part of this reality when I’m coming in you; I can barely think because everything in me is just…it’s about you. Coming and you and coming in you.” He takes a deep breath, and grins. “And then sometimes I feel like I have no energy left, like I am a giant potato and I just need to pass out until the next day.”

“But not always?”

He shakes his head, kissing your neck. “Usually. But you’re my priority. And I can read the room; if you want another, babygirl I’m gonna give you another. Hell, if you want another five, babygirl I’ll give you another six. And truly, seeing you like that, eyes wild, writhing under me, begging for another, wanting my tongue, my fingers, my dick, panting my name…I’d gladly forgo sleep for the rest of my life if it’d make you happy and keep you coming for me. Other times, when you don’t need another, I still just feel so close to you and I want to stay awake and hold you and whisper and kiss and cuddle until we both fall asleep, and then… other times I can tell you’re gonna pass out if you don’t eat, so I’ll make sure we both eat and then we can pass out from fatigue together. You’re my priority because I’m so deeply in love with you.” He kisses your forehead. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah,” you smile softly, snuggling close. “I have another question.”

He laughs and kisses you again. “Just full of questions today,” he teases and you blush. “No, ask away. You never did tell me what you wanted to know earlier.”

“You never did fuck it out of me earlier,” you retort with a grin. “We got caught up in making out, which was great, and fell asleep naked, post-breakfast and mid-makeout, in a lounge chair in the sunshine, if you recall.” He smirks at the memory and kisses you again, biting at your lower lip and tugging a little.

“Tell me now, then.” His hands curve over your hips and he presses a thigh between your legs. “Tell me now, babygirl.” He kisses you again, drawing a moan from you. “I want to know. Tell me now.”

“Do you have a Tesla?”

He stares at you and laughs. “I’m sorry, what?” You repeat the question and he blinks. “Baby, you’ve seen my car. You’ve been in my car. We’ve fucked in my car. You know I don’t drive a Tesla. Why would you think I drive a Tesla? They’re very expensive.”

You shrug a little and grind on his thigh. “I just think it’s funny that the guy who’s been making me breakfast and fucking me on his compound,” and you stress the word, “is telling me a Tesla is very expensive and implying it’s absurd for him to have one stashed away somewhere, such as here, on his compound.” You stress the word again and he gives you an amused look. “And I think they’re so fucking sexy. And if you had one,” you grind a little harder on his thigh, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “I’d want you to take me for drive, put it on auto-pilot, and let me suck you off; fuck, Brendon, I’d get you coming hard in my mouth, swallowing your cum like it’s water in the desert.” You’re both breathing hard and he tangles a hand in your hair so he can pull you back and stare into your eyes.

“Do you know where one can buy a Tesla in Connecticut?”

-||-

“Jesus,” he whistles when you come out of the bathroom. “I know I packed for you and I don’t mean to give myself too much credit but damn do you look good. Lord have mercy, the way you wear that dress…” Brendon stands and runs a hand down your side, drawing you close. “Let me kiss you.”

“As if you have to ask.” You smile and bring your mouth to his. “Where are we going tonight that requires clothes? These clothes?” You gesture between the two of you, eyeing him as he adjusts his cufflinks.

“Oh, nowhere. I’ve been cooking for us while you’ve been up here in that bathtub, tempting me. But there’s something so deliciously wonderful about looking over the edge of my wine glass at you in dresses like that, knowing I’m going to be getting you out of dresses like that and getting you into my bed. And it would be rude of me to not meet you at your level.”

You grin, and run a hand up his thigh, caressing. “I like that plan.”

“That’s not the whole plan though,” he continues, gazing down at you. You look at him curiously and he grins, shaking his head. “All in good time.”

“You’re being weird,” you tell him, kissing him again. “I’m okay with it, you just need to know you’re being weird.”

He laces your fingers together, kissing your forehead. “Yes. I am. Let’s go eat.”

-||-

You’re out at the guest cabin, curled up on the floor together in front of the huge fireplace and he’s smiling at you over his wine glass and you can’t stop smiling back, plates empty on the ground in front of you. “You’re being weird,” you repeat and he just smiles wider.

“Come with me,” he says, standing and extending a hand. You rise and place your hand in his, letting him lead you to the door, wrapping you in a coat and tying the belt. “We’re going on a walk.” He takes you outside and you walk down the pathway leading to the trails. “I’m going to pick you up now, so we don’t ruin those shoes,” he tells you, and he does just that, scooping you up into his arms, and you shriek with laughter as he kisses your cheek and starts up the hill.

“Don’t drop me,” you warn, clinging to his neck. He looks offended. “I know, I know. You’ll catch me. And you always have.”

“Damn right,” he murmurs, holding you tighter until he reaches what appears to be his destination. “Yep. Here.” He sets you down and you look around. “Here. Okay.” He takes both of your hands and you look at him now. “Y/n Milton. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I have known since I first kissed you that I wanted you forever. You challenge me, you make me want to be a better man, you make me laugh like no one before, you turn me on like no one before, and I see a future with you like no one before. You’re all I want, now and forever. I know it’s scary; I know it’s a lot; I know it’s soon. Y/n, love, I know it’s a leap. But I promise, if you take this leap with me, you won’t regret it. I’ll spend every day taking care of you and loving you and making you the happiest woman you can be - just say yes and make me the happiest man I can be.” He’s breathing hard, eyes wide as he drops down to one knee, your left hand in both of his. “I know it’s a leap, baby, but-“

“Yes. Brendon, I’m ready. Yes.” You’re pulling him to his feet, kissing him hard, and he pulls back after a moment, beaming.

“I do have a ring, by the way,” he tells you with a chuckle, and you laugh a little giddily as he pulls a box from his pocket, opening it for your eyes. “You didn’t think I’d get it wrong twice, did you?”

“Jesus Christ,” you choke, eyes wide, and he laughs with delight, taking your left hand again and sliding the ring onto your finger. “Brendon-this is-“

He kisses you again, running his hands through your hair and holding you close. “It belonged to my mother. She wanted the next Mrs. Urie to have it.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brendon x reader. Warnings: dirty talk, language, sex, arguably public sex (there are witnesses arguably), feelings. The end is rough; it was a little too close to home for me. 
> 
> Word count: 5.4k

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, reclining against his chest in bed, staring at your finger. “Your mom - dad? - had good taste.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees, wrapping his arms around your waist. “It looks good on you. Full disclosure, only the center diamond was hers, I got it reset to fit you, size and style.” He kisses your neck and you moan as his tongue teases your ear. “Did I do well, baby?” You nod and turn in his arms, kissing him hard. He pulls back after a moment, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’m really mad I waited until tonight, I’ll admit.” You give him an inquisitive look and he sighs. “Courthouses aren’t open on Saturdays. I don’t know about you, but I don’t need a big ceremony; I just want to be your husband. Of course, if you want something big-”

You melt a little, and tip your head back to kiss his cheek. “I don’t need anything big either. There’s always Atlantic City,” you suggest with a grin and he shakes his head.

“Three-day wait for a marriage license after applying unless we can convince a superior court judge to waive the wait. And while I did consider bribing a judge-“

“Brendon,” you laugh, “you can’t bribe a judge.”

He pretends to look insulted. “I absolutely can, everyone has a price, even superior court judges.” He smiles. “I just won’t. Because it’s morally and ethically wrong and I won’t make you my wife through immoral and unethical actions.” He pauses. “Wait. Stop. Hold everything.” You look at him expectantly and he beams at you, scrambling off of the bed and dropping to the side. “Give me your hand,” he requests and you do so. “Y/n, if I can make this work, will you marry me tomorrow? Here?”

“Of course I will,” you whisper, smiling. “Now get off your knees and come up here and kiss me.”

He crawls back into bed and straddles you, kissing you deeply, tongue exploring your mouth while his hands move down over the swell of your breasts before grasping your hips and rolling his pelvis against yours. “I’ve got some calls to make,” he murmurs against your lips. “Do you wanna stay here and fall asleep or come sit on my lap while I get things together in the office? Don’t wanna keep you awake if you’re sleepy,” and you yawn as if on cue, ”but if you’re going to be awake anyway, would love to have you in my lap, teasing me with that perfect ass, rolling over my cock, grinding hard, making me want to slide your slip up and my pants down so you can fuck me, ride me, lean over onto the desk to give yourself some leverage while I make arrangements to make you my wife.” You moan, trying to stifle the yawn you don’t want to yawn, reaching for him and he kisses your forehead, smiling. “Sleep honey. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“No,” you protest, stretching both hands out to him. “I want that. Take me to the office and let me sit in your lap and take your dick while you try to stay composed on the phone.” Brendon groans and shakes his head a little.

“Baby, you’re sleepy,” he says softly, brushing a hand over your forehead. “We’ve got plenty of time to play; you need your rest.” You pout and he chuckles, shaking his head in amused exasperation. “You know what, you’re a grown woman. If you want to forgo sleep so you can fuck your fiancé, you can make that choice. Get up babygirl, we’re going to my office.”

You clap giddily and he laughs, leading you down the hall and down the stairs. He opens a door you didn’t notice before off of the kitchen and leads you down another flight of stairs and you gasp. “Brendon, what the fuck?” You’re standing in a mini-movie screening room, twelve overstuffed leather chairs arranged in front of a huge screen with a dusty popcorn machine in the back corner.

“My mom was very protective so she had my father make this house the place all of my friends in the area would want to come. In hindsight, it was a little helicopter-parentish, but she always knew who I was hanging out with and they got to meet all of my friends’ parents this way. Come on, the office is back through here.” He leads you down a hallway and you stop short. It’s an imposing room with green ornate wallpaper and wood paneling, an oil painting of a vineyard (theirs, probably), and a huge wooden desk with a leather chair behind it.

“This is…not what I expected from your office,” you admit and he shakes his head.

“Nope. It’s how my dad left it and I don’t have the heart to redecorate. If I didn’t need his Rolodex, I’d make these calls upstairs and you could ride me in our bed, but…” he trails off, shrugging. “Here we are.” He settles in the chair behind the desk and pats his lap. “Come here baby. Tease me a little while I find the contacts I need.”

You sit on his lap, facing the desk, and start rocking slowly, just enough to feel his dick twitch under you against your thighs. “Feels good, baby?” You’re a little breathless, spreading your legs slightly so you can trap his erection between your thighs as you roll in his lap. “I like having your hard cock between my legs,” you murmur and he gives a sharp groan, thrusting up between your thighs.

“Babygirl,” Brendon whispers, “gotta get my pants off.” You nod and raise your hips enough for him to shove his sweatpants down and you close your legs around his throbbing dick again. “Fuck yeah Y/n,” he moans, thrusting up, the head of his cock pushing through your legs, making you gasp and moan. “I don’t even need to be in your pussy, I could come like this, fucking your thighs, just get my cum all over you, make a total mess of you,” he whispers, and you squeeze tighter, whimpering. “But I want you to come on me, so up one more time baby, let me get in that tight pussy of yours.” You oblige, and sink back down on him, crying out when you settle into his lap, having taken all of him. “Good girl,” he tells you, stroking your hair as you rock your hips up and back down, fucking yourself on him. “I’m going to call some people now, so behave, yeah? No noises, okay?”

You nod, biting your lip and gripping his thighs under you, still rolling in small circles.

“Dr. Richards, Brendon Urie. Boyd’s son. Yes sir, it has been a while. Yes sir, I know it’s rather late, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have called if it didn’t mean a great deal to me - you see-“ he falls silent while Dr. Richards goes off on a tangent about all the good times he and Brendon’s father had together; Brendon doesn’t even have him on speakerphone and you can hear him clearly. You grin, raising yourself and dropping down hard, trying to smother the small squeaks of pleasure as you lean forward to rest your arms on the desk, hips rocking furiously over him. He pulls the phone away from his mouth and tugs your hair to get your attention.

“You look so sexy babygirl, taking my dick like this. Keep going, fuck yourself good, make yourself come on me,” he whispers and you swear your eyes roll back in your head. “Yes sir.” His attention is back on the phone. “Ah, well you see sir, I’m in town actually and - yes sir, I’d love to stop by but, the thing is, I actually have someone with me. My fiancée.” Another pause and you drop your head into your arms to bite your forearm in your efforts to remain silent. His hand is caressing your ass and curling around your hip to keep you in his lap. “Yes sir, she teaches at the school in Putnam with me. The reason I’m calling sir, well, I was hoping, since you’re still a judge…yes sir. I’d like you to marry us. Tomorrow, oh god, if possible.” He’s starting to break. There’s another pause and you look back over your shoulder at him, breathing hard.

“If he needs convincing, tell him your future wife is fucking herself and you senseless right now and she’s being incredibly dirty by riding your cock so nicely and needs to be made an honest woman.” You hold his gaze, biting your lip.

He smacks your ass with a grin, mouthing “bad girl” at you and you both moan when your pussy clenches around him and his dick pulses inside you. You drop your head back into your arms, switching to small frantic circles. “Yes sir, I know it’s short notice. No, no sir. We’ve, oh god,” he whispers, pulling the phone away again and grabbing your hip to thrust against you as you feel both of you get closer, “-been engaged for about two months now.” He delivers the lie smoothly and you smirk, cutting your pace in half. He tugs your hair again, giving you a desperate look.

“You lied,” you whisper with a grin. “That was bad.”

“So punish me. Make me come in this tight pussy and not be able to do or say anything about it,” he hisses through his teeth, trying to focus. He shakes his head a little to clear his thoughts. “Yes sir, we’ve been together for a while,” and when you turn to look at him again, he raises an eyebrow as if daring you to go slower. “And we’ve thought about it and we really want to get married here in a small, private ceremony. No sir, her parents have also passed…yes sir, it would be you and your wife, and James if he’s in the area. I’d love to see him, catch up, introduce him to my bride.” You aren’t quick enough to smother your moan at his reference to you as his bride, and he smacks your ass again. “Bad. Girl,” he mouths again, grinning. He listens to Dr. Richards on the other line and nods. “Yes sir, that would be wonderful. Yes sir. So I just need to have - okay. Okay. Yes sir, I can -“ he cuts himself off and looks at you, mouthing “oh my god” as you pick up your pace, really working for your release now. “I can make sure that happens, yes sir. Thank you sir. I’ll see you and your family tomorrow night. Thank you Dr. Richards. Yes. Okay. Goodnight.” He ends the call and looks at you, eyes dark. “Babygirl, you’ve been teasing me something terrible. You’ve got one more phone call to make us both come or we’re both going to bed unhappy. And this is a short call, so I’d get to work,” he tells you as he smacks your ass a third time.

“Yes sir,” you tease, looking back at him and grinding slowly. “I’m sorry for teasing. I want you to come in me. Gonna come in me, Brendon? I want you to grab my hair and my hip and hold me down in your lap as you fill my pussy.”

“Holy fuck, I’m so glad I’m marrying you,” he groans and you laugh, sitting upright in his lap, grinding down on him hard, one hand curved around the back of his neck, the other, your left hand, clutching his left hand. “That’s it baby, ride me. Take me.”

“Oh fuck,” you breathe when he flexes inside you. “God, Brendon, feels so good.”

“Yeah you do. Now be a good girl and come in my lap while I make this last call.” He dials and you take advantage of the moment to gasp and swear and whine, doubling your pace and leaning back over to grip the edge of the desk. “Good girl, God you’re my good girl,” he whispers, his head dropping back. “Hi, is Mark available? This is Brendon, Brendon Ur- hey man! How are you?” You can feel yourself getting close and you clench around him, whimpering lowly. He either doesn’t hear you or ignores you, because he doesn’t punish you for making noises this time. It helps, hearing your own pleasure, and you moan now, eyes squeezed shut. “Play with your clit babygirl,” he whispers, phone tucked in his neck. “I’ve been well, thank you! I’m up here for a few days actually, yeah - no I’m actually here with someone, yeah, she’s my fiancée. We’ve been just relaxing - shut up, man,” he laughs and flattens his palm against your back, stroking soothingly as you work yourself closer to the edge, two fingers rubbing yourself messily. “But Dr. Richards is coming over tomorrow night and we’re going to get married. Yeah, she knows. Yeah, she’s here right now- no you can’t say hi, she’s a little occupied - oh shut up Mark, dude, she is too real,” he laughs again and you grin, purposefully letting out a sharp moan.

“Oooooh, fuck, Brendon, yes, right there.”

He freezes and you can feel his eyes on you. You duck your head and you can hear Mark on the other end of the phone laughing and saying something. “She’s just messing around, she’s working on something for tomorrow. But I was hoping you’d come-“

“I’m gonna come,” you whisper quietly, squeezing his hand.

“You’d fucking better,” he retorts, bucking his hips up sharply. “-sorry, man, she was confused about something. I was hoping you’d come and meet her and catch up - and yes,” Brendon laughs, “bring your camera. You are still the most talented guy I know and I’d love for your skill to meet her beauty because, damn-“ the word comes out as a moan as you come undone, whining and trembling in his lap, both hands on his thighs as you double over, panting, breathing hard. “Fuck,” he hisses, “hang on Mark, I just-“ and he keeps the phone jammed between his ear and his shoulder, one hand in your hair and the going for your hip when he shakes his head, making a decision. “I’ll call you right back.” He hangs up the phone, lets it drop to the floor, and grabs your waist. “Goddamn baby, fucking take it, I’m coming,” he groans, hips rocking and biting your neck.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head. “Jesus Christ, Brendon, come in me, yes!” He groans, teeth grazing your skin, fingers digging into your hips, whole body shaking and seizing up under you. It feels like a lifetime and a split second all at once, he’s gasping your name and bucking into you, and you rock back against him, spreading your legs wider over his lap to take him deeper as he goes limp under you.

“My god, Y/n, babygirl,” he says with a shudder. “You’re incredible.” You laugh, slumping back against his chest.

“I’m a mess,” you counter, wiggling in his lap, moaning when he twitches inside you. “I’m a thoroughly fucked mess.”

“Mmmmm,” he purrs in your ear, “no, you’re my thoroughly fucked bride-to-be.” You laugh, and he takes your left hand, holding it out in front of both of you. “Damn, I like seeing this ring on you.” You sigh happily, nodding and he kisses the back of your hand. “I gotta call Mark back, babygirl.”

You nod, slipping out of his lap. “I’m gonna go take a bath. Come get me when you’re done.” You lean over and kiss him gently. “Don’t be too long.” You pull back, his lower lip caught in your teeth, your eyes flashing with a smile. “I’ll be waiting, baby.” You glance down and see his phone, sink down to your knees while giving him a meaningful look, tongue slipping out between your lips for a moment, and rise back up, placing the phone in his hand. “Call your friend and then come to bed, B.”

“My god,” he groans, reaching out to caress your side. “I’ll be quick, baby.”

-||-

“You still awake?” His voice is soft and he’s sliding into bed behind you, arms encircling your waist. You nod, turning in his arms and he sighs contentedly, kissing the top of your head.

“My dad’s friend Dr. Richards is going to come officiate tomorrow night. His son James, is a good friend. My other friend Mark is going to come too, take photos. He’s quite good, and you’re quite beautiful, so this will work out well.” You smile up at him and he kisses your lips. “Sleepy babygirl?” You nod, burying your face in his chest. “Let’s sleep now. We’re getting married tomorrow.”

-||-

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs, stroking your hair as you lounge naked in bed together the next morning, and you grin.

“About how in twelve hours I’m going to be your wife?”

He groans, kissing your head. “Say it again.”

You smile and inch your way down the bed, eyes on his. “I’m going to be your wife.” Your hand finds his burgeoning erection and you grin, mouthing over him as your hand tightens around his dick. “I’m going to be,” and you lick him swiftly, “Mrs. Y/n Urie. Your wife.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “Mrs. Urie, I love the sound of that. My wife. God, baby, getting me hard just thinking about it.” He takes a shuddering gasp and reaches down to move your hand. “Don’t hate me, babygirl, but I think we should abstain from sex until we’re married.”

You laugh, snuggling into his thigh. “A whole twelve hours?” He nods and you grin. “Okay, baby. We’ll be pure until we’re married. A whole twelve hours.”

“And,” he continues, “we should take Monday off from school too. Maybe even Tuesday. I’d like to take another week to just relish you, especially if we’re holding off for the next twelve hours, but I have a feeling you won’t let me do that.”

You close your eyes, picturing it. The breakfast on the back patio or in bed, the lazy mornings naked in the pool or on the couch, the afternoon sex lasting until you have to break for food, and then starting again. “I could give you another week,” you tell him with a smile. “I’d be okay with taking another week. We’d have to tell Frank, but…yeah I’d be really happy to stay here for another week with you, celebrating and consummating our marriage.”

“We’ll put in for the sub later today and call Frank Monday morning,” he tells you. “The district gives so many days for a honeymoon, I’m not sure how many, and if we exceed it, they’ll want to take the sub salary from our pay but I’ll just write a check.”

You smile, kissing his chest. “Am I a bad influence? I feel like you didn’t always spend money this recklessly.”

He shrugs, beckoning you, and you scoot up the bed so you’re on top of him and face to face. “This is why my parents set things up the way they did - so I, and my future family, could live comfortably without having to sacrifice what I, and now we, love - teaching. Other than our house in Putnam, the property taxes there and here, plus cost of maintenance at both places, I haven’t touched what they left me. And I don’t delve into the profit margin from the vineyard; there are strict instructions to donate most, if not all, of the profits to the food bank I told you about. Shane, my friend who does day-to-day, keeps an eye on the account that I pull from and replenishes it as needed and as he sees fit; I trust him. I get a bank statement every month and he hasn’t steered me wrong yet. So no, besides our shopping spree at Target and Bed Bath and Beyond and,” he takes your left hand to kiss your ring finger, “resetting this, you haven’t had me spending anything I wouldn’t have spent already. Trust me, we’re just fine. I know you don’t want this, but if you wanted to quit working, you could.”

You nod. “Okay. I just - it’s the teacher side of me, to worry about money. I’ll learn, I promise. I’ll stop stressing eventually.” He kisses the top of your head and you snuggle in close. “And I do want to take a year or two off once we have kids, maybe even til they start school full-time. I want to be the one to raise our kids. You and me. Not you, me, and a highly-qualified and thoroughly-vetted nanny.”

“Speaking of which,” and he grins, running a hand down your side. “I’d like to wait a little bit before we start a family. I just really want to enjoy you and being married to you. Of course, if you want to start sooner, you say the word and I’ll do my part in getting you pregnant with pleasure,” he grins again and you laugh, blushing a little. “But if I had it my way, we’d wait a few years, or at least one, before we started-“

“We can wait. We should definitely keep practicing,” you say with a grin, “but we can wait.” You kiss him gently and it turns heated, his hands curving over your hips and his tongue teasing yours; both of you letting out soft moans and breathy sighs. “Or,” you pull back, eyes bright from his embrace, “I have the doctor take my IUD out and we just see what happens.” You both consider this for a moment and you’re the one to shake your head. “That’s probably not a good idea actually, I’d be pregnant in a month or less.”

He laughs and kisses you again. “Let’s just keep practicing,” he tells you, eyes heavy. “But not for the next twelve hours, because I’m a fucking idiot with fucking stupid ideas, apparently.”

-||-

“My god,” Brendon’s voice catches in his throat when you appear at the top of the stairs in a fitted white sheath you’re grateful to him for packing. “You’re- Jesus.”

“I’m not, actually.” You smile, extending your hand to him as you descend, and he takes it, pulling you close. “I am, however,” you murmur, brushing your lips over his, “less than an hour from being your wife.”

“Come meet everyone,” he implores, “so I can be forced to be appropriate and polite and not focus on stripping you out of that dress and making love to you until we both pass out.” You smile at him, but he can see the longing in your eyes. He leads you into the kitchen where he’s set up a full bar and the biggest charcuterie board you’ve ever seen. The four people there set down their glasses, smile at you, and break into excited chatter. Brendon holds up his hand, laughing. “Dr. Richards, Mrs. Richards, my fiancée, Y/n Milton. Y/n, the Richards were some of my parents’ closest friends in the area, and in general. Their son, James, one of my two best friends and Mark, the other of my two best friends.”

You smile and accept handshakes from the men and a hug from Mrs. Richards. Brendon passes you a glass of white wine and comes back to slip an arm around your waist. “Dinner is ready,” he announces and presses a kiss to your cheek.

-||-

You’re all seated at the dinner table, the same table he had you spread out on two nights ago, mouth working between your legs. You’re not positive, but you’re pretty sure he’s changed the tablecloth. You hope he has at least. “I like your friends,” you whisper as you lean over to steal another piece of his cheesecake. He smiles and stabs a forkful, bringing it to your lips for you to take before swooping his fork down to swipe a bite of your chocolate cake.

“They like you,” he returns, brushing a finger down your cheek. “And I love you.” He moves closer, desire burning in his eyes, clearly about to kiss you.

Dr. Richards clears his throat from across the table, and you pull back, grinning. “Alright kids, you ready to get married?” He sounds delighted and Brendon smiles, taking your hand and kissing it.

“More ready than I’ve ever been,” he declares and you nod, beaming.

“Well, we’ve got some paperwork to do first, very romantic, I know. But once that’s done, we’ll be good to go. Brendon, if you and your bride would care to join me in the living room, we’ll get the license out of the way. Carolyn, if you’d be so kind as to get things set up with James and Mark outside where Brendon indicated?” He smiles at his wife and she nods, eyes bright, rising from the table and beckoning to the two young men.

-||-

“Oh my god,” you gasp when Brendon leads you outside to the pool. You clutch his hand with both of yours and you can feel your legs shaking, eyes brimming with tears. “How did you-?”

The pool is full of floating tea lights and white peonies, and somehow, Mrs. Richards, James, and Mark have assembled a gauzy arch where you’ll become his wife, but what has really taken your breath away is the fact that Meredith and Chloe are standing beside the arch, smiling brightly at you in navy sheath dresses. “No, really, how did you get them here?” You’re crying and they’re rushing forward, hugging you tightly. He steps back and your best friend and her sister, arguably your second closest friend, are squeezing you tightly and dabbing at your face, blotting away your tears.

“Brendon called last night and we were on a flight, courtesy of him, this morning. He sent a car to the airport and we stopped at a mall on the way, got dresses, and now we’re here. Do you really think we’d miss you getting married? And especially,” Meredith leans in conspiratorially, “to someone so sexy?” You give her a look, grinning, and she giggles. “And okay, yes, kind and generous and caring and wonderful and so…goddamn…sexy?” Chloe nods, laughing behind a hand, blushing a little when Brendon looks over at the three of you, amused. “Short answer, we wouldn’t.” You laugh and hug them both tightly. “Okay. Let’s get you married. We’ll discuss everything, and I mean everything, later.”

-||-

Tonight, Y/n Y/m/n Milton, I affirm my love for you, and I vow to share my life with you in everything and every way. You are the most generous person I have ever known - you are kind, honest, and beautiful. You are strong and incredible and resilient, and I am so lucky to be in love with you. I take you to be my wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health; from this day forward, you shall be first in my heart and our souls shall be one. I vow to help create for us a life of honesty, fidelity, trust, and love. To love you and respect you and honor you, not as some idea of you, but as you truly are. To grow with you, learn with you, and to live out our days hand in hand, side by side.”

Brendon’s eyes are soft, warm, and his hands hold both of yours. Dr. Richards turns to you, smiling, giving you a nod.

“Brendon, I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and respect you and honor you all the days of my life. It was truly an inexplicable force that brought us together - when I first saw you and saw how wonderful you were, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You have reaffirmed that desire in me every day. I promise to always be your loving wife and to feel and create that kind of love every day of our lives…and yet, one lifetime to pledge to you is not enough, could never be enough for all that you are. You, Brendon Boyd Urie, are my partner, my friend, my lover, my hero, my confidante, my defender, my husband, and to you I pledge tonight, and every night from this point forward, trust, understanding, respect, and steadfast love.”

He leans forward to wipe a tear from your cheek and goes to kiss you and Dr. Richards interjects with a chuckle. “Not yet Brendon, but soon, I promise.” He turns to Brendon. “Do you, Brendon Boyd Urie, take Y/n Y/m/n Milton to be your lawfully wedded wife?” You’ve never been so happy to hear two words from Brendon’s lips. Dr. Richards turns to you now. “And do you, Y/n Y/m/n Milton, take Brendon Boyd Urie to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the State of Connecticut, I am pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. And Brendon,” he says with a smile, “now.”

He surges forward, kissing you hard and you tangle your hands in his hair, pressing against him fully, arching into his embrace. “Brendon,” you gasp when his hands curve down your back, and he grins against your lips. “We’ve got an audience.”

“Let them watch.”

-||-

“Meredith and Chloe have been safely escorted to the guest cabin by Mark and James, the Richards are headed home, and you,” Brendon purrs, unzipping your dress and pulling you into bed, “are my wife.”

“God, say it again,” you tease, and he rolls on top of you, slotting a thigh between your legs.

“You’re my wife,” he murmurs, lips moving from your neck to your chest and down your stomach, eyes dark as his tongue flicks out, tasting you. “And I’m about to make my wife feel so good.”

“Oh god,” you hiss, arching your back and grabbing his hair with both hands. “God, Brendon, please.”

He grins, kissing the inside of your thigh. “What do you need baby? You want me to eat you out, lick your clit, make you come?” You nod, eyes desperate. “I won’t even make you say it, Mrs. Urie, as long as you promise to say my name.”

“Fuck, Mr. Urie, deal.” You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips against his face.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, sliding two fingers deep, spreading them and moaning when you cry out, bucking hard. “Baby, I can’t lick you with your hips moving like that, gotta hold still for me, okay?” You nod, panting his name, head pressed into the pillow. “Yeah honey, love you,” he whispers.

“Love you Brendon,” you gasp, whimpering when his tongue finds your clit. His eyes meet yours and you rub against him, biting your lip. “I want you to make me come so you can fuck me like we both want; hard and fast from behind, wedge under me, keeping me at the perfect angle for your cock until you’re coming in me; come on baby, I want you to fuck me so hard that I’m sore tomorrow.”

“How could I resist that talk? Okay baby, I’ll give you what you want,” Brendon groans, adding a third finger and curling them in you. “That’s it, honey, come for me,” he soothes as you shriek, writhing under his touch. “Come on my fingers, Mrs. Urie, come for me, come on me, let me taste you.”

“Oh shit!” You don’t even try to stifle your squeals and his tongue flies over you, his eyes fluttering shut happily when you let go. “God, yes,” you moan, hips rolling gently under his grasp. “Oh, please, Mr. Urie, fuck me, fuck your wife.” He pulls back and eyes you longingly, tongue tracing over his lips. “I’m gonna turn over now and get on my hands and knees for you, Mr. Urie.” You do just that, rolling smoothly onto your forearms, head resting on the pillow as Brendon’s hand runs over your back appreciatively.

“And I,” he murmurs, “am going to do my job as your husband, Mrs. Urie, and make love to you until we’re both shaking, quivering messes.” He runs his hands over your hips and pulls you back against him. “I love you, Mrs. Urie,” he whispers, kissing the back of your neck as he rocks into you with a soft moan, hand tangled in your hair. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you, Mr. Urie.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: dirty talk, language, sex, public sex, oral sex, voyeurism, and that might be it. Oh, this is almost definitely plotless smut. I took a risk and tried something new; tell me if you hate it. Nicely please, I’m feeling vulnerable 😂
> 
> Word count: 4.8k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“You scared me.” His voice behind you is soft and you turn, smiling. “I woke up and my wife wasn’t in bed with me.” He crosses the patio and sits on the edge of the pool next to you, feet dangling in the water. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. I just woke up and felt like I needed to be outside but you looked so sweet asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.” You run a hand down the side of his face and he turns his head to press his lips to your palm, eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry Brendon, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, it’s okay. Last night was big, it was a lot, and it was fast. It’s okay if you’re feeling overwhelmed.” He’s playing with your hands now, caressing each finger, bringing each hand up to his mouth to kiss each fingertip. “As long as you don’t regret anything…”

You shake your head fervently. “Never. I will never regret last night. I meant every word I said, and I mean this too: I love you more. Not more than you love me, I hate when people say stuff like that; but more than any fears, any doubts, any challenges, any bad days. I love you more than anything that could take me away from you. I love you and all that you are more, and I’ll always choose you.” He kisses you gently and you relax into his embrace, sliding closer, running a hand up his thigh.

“Always,” he agrees, and the kiss deepens as you shift towards him more, clearly ready to crawl into his lap. “Baby, your friends are here,” he mumbles against your lips and you pull back, but he brings you back to his mouth with a hand on the back of your head. “Not here right now, but here in the guest cabin and could show up at any minute.” He keeps kissing you as he stands, bringing you with him, and you hitch a leg around his waist so he’ll lift you in both arms.

“So we’ll have to be quick,” you murmur, meeting his eyes with a longing, lingering gaze. “Take me inside, Mr. Urie.” He groans low in the back of his throat as you kiss his neck, hands moving over his chest and back.

He sits you on the counter once you’re inside and his lips find yours as he steps between your legs, fingers moving up your inner thigh under your pajama shorts. “You put clothes on,” he whispers, eyes flashing with amusement.

“So did you,” you point out, tugging at his t-shirt and athletic shorts. “I’m surprised you even packed anything that could qualify as pajamas,” you admit and he laughs before kissing you hard, tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers slip into your heat. The kiss is needy and messy as he works two fingers in and out of you, shoving your shorts to one side, thumb rolling against your clit. “B, you feel so good,” you whine, and he adds a third finger, cutting his pace in half but thrusting hard. “Fuck, yes, I love that,” you tell him, one hand on the back of his head, keeping his mouth near, if not on, yours while your other hand slides under the waistband of his shorts and strokes him firmly. “So hard for me, Mr. Urie.”

“You’re my wife; I’m always going to be hard for you. Fuck, babygirl, want you to play with me.” He shoves his shorts down with his free hand and grabs yours from the back of his head, moving your hand down to his balls. “Play with me,” he repeats, eyes on yours, his desire evident.

“Fuck, Brendon, want me to squeeze them while I jack you off? Or just roll them in my hand, play with you a litt- squeeze them?” His hand on yours has closed, tightening your grip, and he moans when you give him what he wants. “God, I love seeing you like this,” you tell him, the hand moving over his dick tightening, your thumb spreading his pre-cum over the tip sloppily. “You’re always so composed, so in control, always have me begging for it…”

“I’m gonna come,” he tells you, resting his forehead on yours. “You’re gonna make me come all over your hand, honey.”

His words set you off and you stiffen, not ready for it, your whimpers going staccato as you clamp down around his fingers. “Fuck, in me, get in me,” you beg, and he pulls his fingers out and you slide off the counter and turn around in one fluid motion, legs practically going out from under you; he has to rock into you hard since you’re still seizing up and clenching around nothing. You both cry out and his wet fingers, wet with you, you think and moan, dig into your hip as he fucks you hard from behind.

“So fucking tight,” he moans, and you whimper, burying your head in your arms on the counter. “No, baby, let me hear you,” he pleads and you raise your head, the sounds coming from you high and breathless and needy. “Gonna come on me again? Gonna come all over my dick when I come in your tight pussy? I want you to, want you to come for your man, your husband; come for me, babygirl.”

You tip your head back so he’ll hear you. “Use my name.” Your voice is desperate and Brendon groans, smacking your ass hard.

“Come for me, Mrs. Urie.”

“Fuck, yes!” You let out a high-pitched squeal, feeling yourself release; he grunts, going rigid against you, hips the only thing moving as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and fills you. “Yeah baby,” you whimper, “come in me, fill my pussy up. Fuck, Mr. Urie, I wanna feel your cum in me the rest of the day; give me everything you’ve got.” He’s moaning and panting in your ear, hips spasming and breath coming in short bursts. “Yes, baby, yes, like that,” you sigh, rolling back against him, encouraging his climax until he goes still.

“Jesus Christ,” Brendon gasps, slumping over you for a moment before pulling out and falling to his knees on the kitchen floor. You giggle but it’s short-lived; your legs give out from under you and you slip down next to him; his arms keeping you from hitting the floor, easing you down instead. You both give in and lay back against the floor, chests heaving. “Holy fuck,” he says after a moment, looking over at you.

“Holy fuck,” you agree, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re filthy, Mrs. Urie,” he says with a grin and you laugh, nodding, climbing on top of him. “And I fucking love it.” His hand finds the back of your head and he kisses you softly, smiling when you moan at the touch of your tongues.

“Good morning Uries!” Meredith’s voice rings out from the other side of the kitchen island and you both jerk apart, eyes scanning the other for clothing out of place. “I can see your legs on the ground, take a minute to compose yourselves, lovebirds, but then up up up because we have things to do and places to be!”

“Mere,” you groan, “do you know what time it is?” She laughs delightedly, and you can hear one of the bar stools move back for her to perch on it.

“I do, and I think you do too, because you’re out of bed and being nasty on the floor of this very nice kitchen. Brendon, we haven’t known each other long, is my dear friend corrupting you?”

You and Brendon look at each other on the ground and burst out laughing. “No, Meredith, I think if anything, I’ve made her worse.” He winks and kisses you, moving down your neck. “Moan a little for me, babygirl,” he whispers and you do, tangling both hands in his hair as he works his way down to your collarbone.

“God, stop!” She protests with a laugh. “Get up and feed me, Y/n.”

You sit up and Brendon moves with you, hands moving over your chest and waist, holding you against him. “I’d be happy to, but I think you’d rather have something from Brendon.”

She meets your eyes and smirks. “No, I think everything he’s got, he’s giving to you.” He laughs, suckling at a spot low on your neck and moaning into your skin. You sigh happily and roll your head to one side, letting him have more access, whispering to him how much you love his mouth. “Bless, Y/n, it’s a Sunday, y’all are going to hell,” Meredith tells you and you laugh, standing up. Brendon makes a sad sound of loss, standing too and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re both just lucky I’m a freak and like watching,” she teases, hopping off the bar stool and rummaging through the cabinets. “Brendon, I’m gonna make myself at home and cook for myself since your wife is useless.”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek. “I wouldn’t say she’s useless; I’ve found some great uses for her.” You preen under his kiss and throw Meredith a teasing look, sticking out your tongue at her. “Yeah baby, that tongue is one of your great uses,” he murmurs. “But let me make you both something; any preference, ladies?”

You settle onto the bar stool next to Meredith and shrug. “Guest’s choice. Although, for what it’s worth, his chocolate chip pancakes are to die for.”

Meredith gives Brendon two finger guns and a wink. “The guest will have the pancakes.”

-||-

“Oh my god,” Meredith moans, and you nod.

“I told you.” You take a bite of your own pancakes and sigh happily. “I may be mostly useless but my husband sure isn’t.” Meredith moans her agreement and takes another bite. Brendon laughs and kisses your cheek.

“Should I feel objectified?” He asks lowly and you smirk, turning to kiss him on the mouth.

“Only by Mere. I’m allowed to; I’m your wife. In fact, I should objectify you because I’m your wife.”

He laughs and kisses your nose. “Is that how that works? We’re married and we’re now obligated to objectify each other?” You nod seriously and he grins. “Excellent. I can do that.” His eyes move over you appreciatively. “Damn.”

“Hey Uries!” Meredith snap her fingers at you, laughing. “Focus up. You’ve got company.”

“Company that likes watching,” you mumble, kissing him again, whimpering when his tongue flicks against your lower lip.

“Yeah, but now you’re both just being teases,” she jokes, taking a final bite of pancake and clearing the plates from the island. Brendon protests and she waves her hand at him. “Nuh uh. You cooked, I clean up.”

“And what do I do?” You ask, yelping when Brendon pulls you from your bar stool to his lap.

“Keep your husband happy, because his pancakes are incredible,” Meredith tells you and Brendon laughs, kissing your neck.

“Yeah baby, keep your husband happy,” he murmurs, fingers slipping up under your shirt. “So what else is on the agenda for the day?” He asks, looking between you and Meredith as his fingers stroke your stomach. Chloe comes stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“Chlo, there are pancakes,” Meredith points to the plate and looks back at you and Brendon. “We,” she declares with a smile, “are going to the mall.” Chloe grabs the plate and leaves the room, waving over her head. “And she,” Meredith laughs, “will be in a food coma for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh god,” you groan goodnaturedly and Brendon pokes you in the side questioningly. “Meredith is going to play dress-up with me.”

Brendon’s face lights up. “I love this game. I’m coming too.” Meredith claps giddily and you laugh, already knowing how your afternoon is going to go. “Let’s go get dressed, baby.” Brendon tugs you to your feet and drags you upstairs.

“So what am I buying you today?” He whispers with a smile, shoving your pajama shorts down and peeling your t-shirt off, pulling your naked body flush against him once you’re upstairs. “Because I have some ideas, but Meredith is the one who makes you those fucking sexy dresses and skirts, right?” You nod and he lifts you onto the bed, crawling over you. “Hell yeah.” He kisses you hard and you arch into his embrace, clawing at his back. “Am I doing a good job objectifying you?” He laughs, props himself up on his forearms, and you nod, rolling onto your stomach and grinding back against him. “Oh, baby,” he groans, and you moan when you feel him get hard again. “You little tease.” You giggle and he nips at your earlobe, rocking against you, letting you feel how hard he is. “Your ass, babygirl, my god, you’re perfect…you feel what you do to me? You want it now or later?”

You roll under him again, cradling him between your hips. “Later. In a dressing room.” He groans again, rolling off of you and you grin, straddling him and grinding down hard, rocking in small circles over his dick, whimpering and moaning.

“Honey, you gotta…” Brendon closes his eyes, breathing hard. “I’m gonna…if you don’t…”

You lean over, running your hands down his chest and kiss his jawline. “But I want you to.”

“Jesus,” he gasps, hands flying to your hips, moving you on him. “Yeah, honey, you’re so wet, I can feel you.” You nod, biting your lip. “God, Y/n, your pussy, fuck, I’m so easy for you. Keep going baby, please, I’m gonna come.”

“Uries, we’re leaving soon, yes?” Meredith calls up the stairs and you groan, sliding off of him.

“Yeah, Mere, we’ll be right down,” you call, and Brendon sighs, palming over himself, hips rocking slightly. You place your hand over his, meeting his eyes. “You want me to finish you off, baby? I’ll use my mouth, let you come on my tongue like you like.”

He shakes his head, slowing his hand. “No, I’m gonna calm myself down and we’re going to go out in public like a couple that can control themselves and behave and when you least expect it, I’m gonna take you in a dressing room, just like you want.”

-||-

“Oh I like this one!” Meredith claps a little, grinning. “Let’s see what Brendon thinks.” She grabs your phone and FaceTimes Brendon, who is waiting outside the dressing room. “Oh Brendon!” Meredith trills when he answers. “Tell your bride she looks good and she should buy this.” She points the camera at you and you wave weakly, sitting on the bench of the dressing room. “He says you should stand up,” Meredith tells you, and you roll your eyes, amused, standing and doing a quick pirouette. “He says you should buy it.” Meredith says with a grin and you shake your head.

“No, it’s totally impractical.” You smooth your hands down over the lingerie and she rolls her eyes, repeating this to Brendon.

“He wants to talk to you,” Meredith says, passing you your phone. You take it and he smiles at you.

“Hi baby,” he whispers, resting his chin in his hand. “You look pretty.”

You blush, grinning at him. “Thank you. But this is totally impractical; I have plenty of lingerie. I don’t need any more.” He pouts and you giggle. “Do you want to buy me something, baby? We’ll pick something else out together, something I’ll wear often.” His eyes light up. “Do you have something in mind, B?”

He nods eagerly and his image shakes on screen as he walks. “Don’t protest, just put it on.” Meredith appears on your screen for a moment as he passes something to her and she passes it over the door to you.

“Oh, Brendon,” you sigh, your eyes flitting to his on screen. “It’s so pretty.” It’s a soft seafoam green silk teddy with lace-overlaid cups, and you want it. It’s just as impractical but you want it.

“Let me see it, babygirl.” He encourages, settling back down on the couch, eyes dark. “Try it on for me, baby.” You glance around and tell him to come back to the dressing room. “You sure, honey?” You nod and he grins, standing up again and walking. You hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor and he stops outside your door, knocking lightly. “Oh, Mrs. Urie,” he whispers, “your husband is here.” You open the door and pull him inside, shutting it behind him swiftly as Meredith giggles. “Now let me see you try this on for me.” He sits on the bench and waits patiently. You wiggle out of the black lacy piece and reach for the teddy, sliding it up your hips, sighing happily when the cups scoop your breasts up and together, the cool silk hardening your nipples. “Jesus Christ, Y/n,” Brendon groans, shifting in place, beckoning you over. “I want this. I want you and I want this for you.”

“Yeah? You like it?” You kneel in front of him, resting your chin on his knee, eyes wide. He nods, running a hand through your hair, groaning when you arch into his touch. “I like it too.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to take my credit card from my wallet and you’re going to take the tag off of this. Pass both out to Meredith and tell her to go purchase it. And while she’s gone, I’m going to show you how much I like it.” Meredith must have been eavesdropping because she sticks her hand under the door for the tag and his card and once you’ve handed over both, you crawl back to him and he lifts you into his lap. “Goddamn, babygirl, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, mouth moving over your neck. “Gonna let me eat your pussy in this dressing room?” You nod weakly and he grins, pivoting and leaning you back on the bench. “So pretty,” he sighs again, scooting backwards and gazing down at you, running a two fingers from your lips down between your breasts and to your heat, just teasing you. “This is okay?” You nod more urgently this time, hips rocking and he smiles, turning himself flat onto his stomach and spreading your legs. “God, love how wet you get for me baby,” and his whisper is so low you can barely hear him. His tongue flicks out and you gasp, immediately clapping a hand over your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, honey,” he murmurs, licking the inside of your thigh before using his shoulder to spread your legs wider. “Fucking love you,” he mouths, licking over you entirely, eyes fluttering closed when he gets a good taste of you. His tongue goes deep while his lips caress your outer folds, and you’re pressing your hand to your mouth, hips rocking furiously. He throws an arm across you, keeping you down, eyes finding yours. “Hold still,” he hisses, kissing your pussy gently. “So I can treat you right.” You nod frantically, grinding your hips down into the bench, chest heaving. He takes his arm off of you and moves his hand up to tease your breasts, thumb rolling over each nipple gently while his tongue just licks you over and over again. The whole lower half of his face is wet with you and his eyes are still shut and he fucking loves this, he loves loving you, and you could come from this, just seeing him lose control between your legs. And just when you think he’s got you there, he pulls back and licks his lips, breathing hard. “Hey baby?” You look at him, chest heaving, desperate for his mouth again. “Meredith said she liked watching. Have you ever…” and you shake your head. “But she’s…?”

“She listened and watched me with Jason in college a few times. Sat on the floor or the other bed.”

“But you’ve never-?”

“No.” You shake your head firmly. “I love her and she’s my best friend, but her watching me is as far as I’ll let it go. Why? Do you want-?”

“No, you’re all I want,” he reassures you, fingers sliding in and out of you, keeping you on edge while you talk lowly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t- you weren’t…wanting something I can’t give you.”

You shake your head violently. “No, B, all I need is you. Now please, can we stop talking about my best friend who is almost no doubt listening to us outside this dressing room, and go back to your tongue in my pussy?”

He grins and gazes up at you. “I love when you get bossy,” he whispers, tongue teasing you before going deep and rolling inside you. “Tastes so sweet,” Brendon moans as quietly as he can manage and you whimper, hand flying back to your mouth. “And think baby, I haven’t even touched your clit yet.”

“Brendon, please,” you beg, eyes clenched shut.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna suck your clit now babygirl; you think you can be quiet?”

“No,” you admit, breathing hard. He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll try, but probably not as quiet as you want me.”

“Think you need some help?” Your eyes are wide and you don’t know what he means. “Meredith,” he calls softly, “can you come help Y/n with this zipper?” She steps inside immediately and you know she knows there’s no zipper; she’s been listening and her face is flushed and her breathing is erratic. “My wife needs some help staying quiet,” Brendon tells her, and you hear the possessive note in his voice when he says ‘wife.’ “So I want you to take her head in your lap and keep her quiet for me. You can put your hands on her mouth and her hands and shoulders, that’s all - you want to touch her anywhere else, you ask me for permission, understood?” Both you and Meredith shiver a little at how possessive and protective he’s being and she nods. “Good. She’s my wife, I’m the only one who gets to touch her.” His voice is rough and you moan, hips rocking up, desperate for him. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bench behind your head, lifting your head and scooting forward until your head is resting in her lap.

“Hey babygirl,” she coos, “we’re gonna keep you quiet, yeah?” and Brendon looks up, eyes sharp.

“You don’t get to call her that. I’m the only one who calls her that.” Meredith nods and slips a hand over your mouth, the other grasping one of yours. Brendon looks at you, checking that this is okay, and you nod, eyes pleading. “Fucking love you,” he whispers, fingers spreading you wider so his tongue can plunge into you and roll up over your clit and you’re writhing; Meredith takes her hand from yours and drapes it across your collarbone, keeping you down while Brendon takes your clit between his lips and sucks gently. Your eyes fly open and you’re shrieking behind her hand, coming hard. Brendon presses closer, breathing hard, licking up your juices as you come undone under his touch and you’re whimpering, eyes clenched shut, hips rocking, hands clutching your breasts and Meredith smooths a hand over your hair, whispering to you how you beautiful you are and how you have to be quiet and Brendon pulls back, face slick from you. He scrambles up and wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you up out of Meredith’s lap and into his arms, kissing you hard. You’re still shaking with your orgasm as you straddle him, and he groans when you press down against him.

“Jeans down,” you gasp, and his hands frantically unbutton his pants and he’s shoving them and his boxers down his thighs, just low enough for you to grasp his cock and slide him into you so you can grind down hard on him, rocking and bucking in his lap. “Gonna come in me, baby?” You whisper in his ear, switching to small, urgent circles, fingers digging into his shoulders as you press your forehead to his. He’s panting against your mouth, hair messy and in his face and you whimper. “You’re so sexy, B…Felt so good when you filled me up with your cum this morning, want you to do it again for me.”

“God, babygirl,” he chokes out, gripping your hair and your hip so he can thrust up into you hard, “you gonna take it all when I come for you?”

“Jesus,” Meredith moans softly, and you almost forgot she was still there, but she is and you’re pretty sure she’s slid a hand up her skirt. You find Brendon’s eyes and nod, biting your lip as you rub your clit against his pelvis, gasping and whimpering when he tugs your hair again. “Come in her,” Meredith urges and Brendon groans, eyes now shut tight as he falls over the edge, spilling into you, hot and hard. You kiss him frantically, meeting his thrusts, clenching around him repeatedly.

“Yes, baby, yes, come for me, let me have it,” you whisper, running your hands back through his hair and down his back, clinging to him and rocking against him, your tongue parting his lips and letting him explore your mouth.

He’s holding you down in his lap as his body jerks under yours, and you’re both moaning softly into each other’s mouths, hands caressing and groping, clinging to each other desperately.

“Holy shit you guys,” Meredith whispers, leaning back on the bench, licking her fingers idly, getting your attention. “I’m so glad y’all are married because holy fuck, y’all are hot together. Any couple that fucks that well needs to be married.” Brendon laughs, petting your hair and you rest your head on his shoulder, breathing hard. “Y/n, don’t be mad but Brendon, Jason didn’t fuck her like that. I’ve never seen her like that.”

You laugh. “Why would I be mad? I know Jason didn’t fuck me like that; I was there.” She shrugs and stands, legs shaking slightly.

“I don’t know, figured I’d give a disclaimer, just in case. I’ve never seen you fucked like that. I’m really glad you married him.” She looks around the dressing room and grins. “You should probably get cleaned up so we can move on to the next store.”

“Oh god,” you groan, slumping back against Brendon’s chest. “Where are we going next? I don’t think I can take any more sex today, my poor clit…” you laugh and Brendon lifts you off of him and sets you back down so you’re just straddling him.

“Meredith, hope I wasn’t too harsh with you. Sorry. I’m really protective of Y/n. She’s just…” Brendon falters, staring at you. “She’s my world. She’s everything. I don’t share. I don’t play well with others.”

She waves it away. “Don’t give it another thought. It was hot. Not to keep comparing, but, Jason wasn’t protective at all and it didn’t bother me until now. How you were is how he should have been. She’s your wife. Everything you said and did is totally justified. Hell,” she grins, “I’m surprised you let me tell her she was beautiful when she was coming.”

You blush and Brendon grins. “I thought about saying something but I was otherwise occupied. So I just took her away from you instead.” He looks at you, kissing you softly. “As for the next store, Mrs. Urie, we’re picking out wedding bands. Just because we didn’t have them last night doesn’t mean we won’t have them at all. Trust me, I want a physical piece of evidence, other than you on my arm, that I’m yours. Always and forever.”

“I love you,” you tell him, closing your eyes when he kisses your forehead. “And then we’re going home?” You ask hopefully. “Because I am quite sore and could really use some time in that heated pool, followed by some alone time in our room with your hands on my body.”

Meredith has stepped outside by this point but she hears this. “It’s heated?!” She exclaims, and you laugh.

“That’s what I said too,” you giggle, standing up shakily. “Help?” You look at Brendon feebly and he chuckles, standing up and adjusting his pants before stripping you from the silk.

“Of course Mrs. Urie. Get you dressed, pick out rings, back home, heated pool, dinner, then bed.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll be invited to bed,” Meredith drawls and Brendon looks at you.

“We’ll play it by ear, Mere,” you call, stepping into your underwear and letting Brendon slide the lace up your legs. “We’ll play it by ear,” you repeat softly as Brendon grins and pulls you in for another deep kiss.

“She can watch if you want, but only if she remembers you’re all mine,” he whispers lowly in your ear before grabbing your ass.

“Always,” you murmur, arching into his touch.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, dirty talk, arguably public sex, slightly bossy Brendon, voyeurism, arguably a threesome, oral sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“What do you think of this, honey?” His voice is soft and you turn back to him from the second tray the salesman has pulled out. He points to a band nestled against the navy velvet.

“Oh!” Your breath catches in your throat and you reach out to touch the band. “It’s gorgeous.” And it is, it’s a soft silvery rose gold that complements your engagement ring perfectly. It’s perfect. You tell him this, eyes shining.

“Yours would be a halo band with additional pave diamonds, framing one half of the engagement ring, and mine would be a standard band.” He picks up your left hand and kisses it, eyes lifting to yours. “I’d get you the second halo band to complete the frame on our anniversary. Or,” he grins, lips still lingering over your hand. “Upon the birth of our first child. Whichever you’d prefer.”

“I’m - I’m not sure,” you giggle, stepping into his open arms. “I trust your judgement.”

“Well,” he muses, “you’d get a, what do they call it? A push present? For the baby either way. And I think we’ve agreed the anniversary will come first, yes?” You tip your face up to his and nod, kissing him lightly. “Otherwise I’ve got three months to get you pregnant,” he mumbles and the salesman turns discreetly as you blush, biting your lip. “Anniversary gift?” You nod and he kisses your forehead. “Anniversary gift,” he confirms. He looks at the salesman, beaming. “Brett, this is it.”

Brett turns around, pleased. “Excellent! I’ll need your wife’s engagement ring briefly to take some measurements, and then we’ll get your size, Mr. Urie.”

He looks at you expectantly, and you slip your engagement ring off and pass it to Brett. “I don’t like this,” you tell Brendon, rubbing the space on your finger where your ring is supposed to be. “I want it back,” you smile up at him wistfully.

“Soon,” he grins, kissing your forehead. “Though I love that you miss it.” Brett brings it back after a moment and goes to pass it to you, but Brendon takes it instead and slips it back on your finger. “Much better,” he murmurs, kissing your fingers and you smile. He turns to Brett. “You need my size?” Brett nods and brings the ring sizer over and you watch, almost transfixed, as he slides various stainless steel rings over your husband’s ring finger.

You stifle your whimper, biting your knuckles. Brendon looks over at you and winks, knowing what you’re thinking. “Okay, I think I’ve got everything I need,” Brett declares, jotting down Brendon’s ring size on the order form.

“Great!” Brendon smiles, wrapping his arm around your waist and kissing your temple. “American Express okay?”

-||-

“Oh fuck, that’s good,” you sigh, slipping into the hot water. Brendon follows you, groaning as the heat from the pool works his tense muscles. “It was smart to get swimsuits, B,” you whisper, running your fingers along his shoulders. “What with our…company and all.”

“Mmmm,” he purrs, taking you in his arm as you straddle his hip, the other arm stretched backwards across the pool deck to keep you both above the surface. “Babygirl,” he sighs, as your lips move over his neck. “That feels good.”

You run your fingers through his hair, kissing your way up his jaw and over to his lips. “B,” you whisper, grinding against him and he slides you off of his hip and onto his thigh. “Damn, Brendon,” you murmur. “Love your thigh.”

His arm around your waist slips down around your lower back, grasping your hip, keeping you against him. “Gonna make yourself feel good, Mrs. Urie? Gonna ride my thigh until you make yourself come?” You nod and he groans, flexing his thigh under you. “This doesn’t hurt?” You shake your head, grinding slowly. “I’m worried about your clit, babygirl,” he teases, and you smile, biting your lip.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Okay enough for me to play with you later?” His voice is low and his grip on your hip tightens; he hoists you higher to get his lips under your ear. “Because you know how hot this gets me, having you get yourself off on me. You know how much I love letting you give yourself the first if I can give you the next five. And I can only do that if you’ll let me play with, lick, and suck your clit.”

“B,” you murmur, looking in his eyes. “Do you want Meredith?” He looks stunned and you kiss his neck. “It’s okay if you do. She’s pretty.”

“No, baby, just you. Only you. Always only you. You know that.” The look on his face breaks your heart; he’s so earnest and honest and kind and wonderful.

“I believe you B. And I love you. But if you want more, more like today in the dressing room, I can be okay with that.” He shakes his head, protesting, and you place your fingers over his lips. “We can have rules, if you want rules. All kinds of rules. You don’t touch her, she doesn’t touch you, or whatever you want.”

“Y/n.” He cups your face, looking at you seriously. “Babygirl. My love. My wife. I don’t need anyone else but you, forever. I chose you and I will always choose you.”

You kiss his palm, nodding. “Okay.” Your eyes soften. “I love you. Only you. Always you.”

He smiles. “I know. Now, get those hips moving Mrs. Urie, I wanna see you come.”

-||-

“B,” you gasp, clutching his shoulders. “It’s starting to, oh, hurt-“ and his hand stills your hips.

“Time to go inside?” Brendon asks, and you nod, resting your head on his shoulder as he pulls you in tightly and heads for the ladder. “Hang on tight, babygirl,” he tells you and you cling to him as he climbs out of the water. “And now inside,” he soothes, crossing the pool deck, closing the patio door with his foot, and heading for the stairs.

When he gets you to the bedroom, he kicks the door shut before headed to the bathroom and starting the tub. “I know you wanna finish what you started, but I think you need to just relax for a little bit,” he murmurs. Carefully, tenderly, he unties your bikini and lets the pieces fall to the bathroom floor before shoving his own swimsuit down. He kisses you softly, and tests the water, nodding and stepping in. “When you’re ready,” he tells you, holding out a hand to you. You accept it and sink into the tub, steaming water filling it, sighing happily when he scoops out a small amount of coconut oil from the jar next to the tub and rubs it between his hands before working over your neck and shoulders. “Yes baby, just relax. I know most teachers don’t understand the word but…” he trails off, kissing your cheek.

“You know what I just realized?” You ask him after a stretch of silence and slick hands on your skin, and he looks at you curiously. “We’re married.” He starts laughing and you splash him lightly. “Let me finish. We’re married. We can chaperone band trips together and stay in the same room. Because we’re married. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Mmmmm,” he agrees, thumbs working the space between your neck and collarbone. “There was nothing ‘wrong with it’ before, but I understand your point. Now, we probably still can’t have loud, raucous sex on band trips, but falling asleep, holding you, will be enough for me. I have to admit, I was not looking forward to future competitions, especially State, without you there.”

You turn in his arms. “I knew there was an ulterior motive to proposing; you just wanted me at State,” you tease and he nods, pulling you into his lap, kissing you.

“Yes. All of this, our courtship, our marriage, has been about my State ranking. You’ve caught me.” He grins and you pout playfully. “Ohhh, babygirl, you know I can’t even joke about that. I love you. You know I’d do anything for you.” You nod and he runs his hands up your sides and pulls you in. “Come here, honey.” His hand slips down between your thighs and teases you, but pulls back when you inhale sharply, involuntarily. “Oh baby, honey, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand and holding you close. “Are you-?”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you soothe, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Let’s get in bed and just snuggle a bit, okay?” His voice is soft and you agree. He lifts you both out of the tub and wraps you in one of the bathrobes before tying his own. “You ready, honey?”

You nod and he leads you to bed, pulling back the blankets, lifting you in and tucking them around you before crossing the end of the bed and crawling in beside you. “You wanna go to sleep, baby, or you wanna watch a movie?”

You snuggle in against him, burying your face in his neck and breathing him in. “I wanna fall asleep watching a movie.” He laughs lightly and kisses the top of your head.

“We can do that. Anything in particular?” You shake your head and he turns on the TV. “I’m gonna channel surf then, and you stop me when you see something you like.” You nod and he starts flipping.

-||-

“What time is it?” Your voice is hoarse and he stirs under you, one hand in your hair and the other on your side, keeping you curled on top of him.

“I don’t even know, maybe 2am, but you were asleep before we even picked a movie,” he says with a slight laugh. You rest your head back on his chest, closing your eyes.

“I’m not sorry,” you giggle and then yawn. “I’m gonna fall back asleep now,” you tell him and he nods, running a hand through your damp hair.

“Wake me up when you want breakfast,” he mumbles, yawning.

“You know I will,” you tease, sighing when he keeps stroking your hair. “Feels nice, B.” He kisses the top of your head and rests his head on yours as both of you drift asleep.

You’re jolted out of your drowsiness by a soft knocking on the door. “Oh Uries,” Meredith calls gently, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “It’s real quiet in there but I figured I’d check to see if you needed my assistance…just in case.”

You and Brendon sit up and exchange a look; you both shake your head at the same time. He kisses your forehead and you settle back down into bed as he tightens his arms around your waist. “Not tonight Mere,” you call, and you can hear the exhaustion in your voice. “We’re just gonna go to sleep. We’re really tired.”

“Really boring is more like it,” she teases. “Okay, see you both in the morning. Y/n, you have my number…if you change your mind.” She knocks on the door once as a goodbye and you hear her footsteps depart.

“What rules did you have in mind?” His voice is soft and you look up at him curiously. “I told you in the dressing room that she could watch if she remembered that you were mine. That’s still true. I told you in the pool I don’t need anyone else but you, ever. That’s still true. I don’t need a threesome, I don’t need her; you’re all I want and need. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t like having someone witness what I do to you, having someone see what you do to me.” He takes a deep breath and you kiss him softly. “You said we could have rules. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with, so what rules did you have in mind?”

You wiggle out of your bathrobe and he opens his for you to press against him fully. Once you’re laying against him, he closes his robe to envelope you both. You look up at him, eyes soft. “I’m okay with her watching, I’m okay with her touching me however you want, and I don’t want her touching you. Preferably at all,” you admit, and he smiles, nodding.

“Of course. She and I don’t touch at all.” You tilt your head to the side and he grins. “What are you thinking, Mrs. Urie?”

You can’t stop the smile. “First, I’m thinking how much I love when you call me that because I love being your wife. Second, I’m thinking that if you want her to touch me, you’re allowed to touch her. If you want to treat her like an extension of yourself, basically, you can. Move and place her hands and so on, telling her what to do, you can do that.”

Brendon’s eyes are dark and he bites his lip, studying you. “What about her mouth? Can I move and place her mouth and tell her what to do?” You shiver a little and give him a look. “I’m just thinking,” he says with a grin. “If I’m using her as an extension of me…well we’ve both wished I had a second mouth at times. That’s all.”

You take a ragged breath and close your eyes, thinking. “Nothing below the waist and no lips.”

He nods. “Deal.” He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him. “So to review - and I’m fine with all of this, trust me - but to review: the only time she and I would touch is if I want to her to do something to you and I’m guiding her - but nothing with her mouth below your waist or on your mouth - but hands are fine below the waist and your mouth?” You nod after a moment and he smiles. “Okay. What about toys?”

You look at him, surprised. “What about toys?”

“I mean. I brought a few from home. And I bought a few yesterday while y’all were trying things on that I think you’ll like. Is she allowed to use them on you or-“ you cut him off, shaking your head. “Okay. But she can watch me and you?” You nod and he continues, running his thumb over your hand. “Phones. We both agree we like being watched; is she allowed to film or take photos?” You consider and he kisses your forehead. “From my perspective, I’d be okay with filming and photos but only if it’s on one of our phones, not hers. We can decide to share it with her if we want to.”

You mull this over and nod. “That sounds reasonable,” you agree and he kisses you deeply, fingers lacing through your hair as his tongue works over yours. “I fucking love you,” you tell him breathlessly and he repeats it back to you. “Hey, B?” He looks at you, waiting. “I’m really turned on just thinking about her watching us, about you bossing her around,” you admit, and he groans, sucking at your neck. “I don’t wanna call her, I just want this to be us right now, but damn…I’m so fucking wet.”

“I can feel you, babygirl. You have no idea how badly I want to spread your legs so I can take care of you.”

“Maybe I want to take care of you, Brendon.” You flutter your eyelashes at him teasingly and he laughs, pulling you on top of him. “Gonna let me fuck you right, Mr. Urie?”

“Gladly, Mrs. Urie.”

-||-

“Oh- oh, God, Jesus - fuck,” he gasps when you grind down on him hard, squeezing around him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Yeah baby, clench that tight pussy around my dick, make me come for you,” he moans, eyes on yours. You whisper his name, rolling your hips up and dropping down, biting your lip. “Jesus, look at you,” he sighs, his hand on your hip. “Holy fuck, baby, wish you could see yourself. Hair all over the place, writhing on me, mouth open and panting as you ride me, stomach clenching as you bounce up and down, taking my cock deep in you…holy fuck, gonna come on me, baby? Gonna come all over me? Come for me Mrs. Urie, come on your husband’s dick, get it all over me…Jesus, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You’re my good girl, aren’t you, baby? Say my name, baby -Oh God, there, I’m coming Y/n, I’m coming!”

“Fuck! Oh, fu- Brendon, fuck!” Your voice is high and tight and you’re coming hard with him, letting out a shrill moan when you feel him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasp, tipping your head back, breathing hard. He bucks up into you and you slump over, resting your forehead against his, whimpering softly as he sighs your name, caressing your cheek, hips still rocking.

“I love you,” he whispers, clutching you to him. “So much. Jesus, Y/n, you’re perfect. Holy fuck.”

“The same to you, Mr. Urie,” you giggle breathlessly, fingers curling in his hair. “Same to you.”

“Shower or sleep?” You can hear the fatigue in his voice as his hips slow to a stop and you wiggle down onto him firmly.

“Sleep. I’m all sticky but so are you. We can shower in the morning. Sleep for now.” He laughs, lifting you off of him and tucking you under his arm. “Can we have scrambled eggs in the morning?” You ask sweetly and he nods, kissing your head with a smile.

“Yeah, baby. Scrambled eggs in the morning.”

-||-

“Breakfast, m’dear, is served.” He waves his arm with a flourish and escorts you from the living room to the kitchen.

“Hey,” you turn to him with a smile, pulling him close. “Thank you. For everything but right now especially for cooking. I really appreciate it, and you.”

He grins, kissing your forehead. “Thank you for thanking me but I enjoy it, really. Food is a necessity and I enjoy taking care of you and providing you with both necessities and luxuries.” He wraps his arm around you, and holds you close. “Will Meredith and Chloe be joining us for breakfast?”

“I think they’re both still asleep; I texted them both but haven’t heard back. So it’s just you and me for now,” you say with a smile. “Let’s be cute and feed each other scrambled eggs. And then maybe we skip a shower and just get in the pool?”

Brendon lifts you into his arms. “I think,” he says as he deposits you on a bar stool, “that is an excellent idea.”

-||-

It’s hours later and you’re out of the pool, dry but still in your swimsuits, and stretched out on the couch; his head is on your stomach, body curled up between your legs, and your hands are in his hair. He’s asleep, breathing softly with one arm around your waist and the other hand reaching up to palm one of your breasts, and you’re drifting off, legs draped on either side of him.

Meredith bursts into the living room but stops short when she sees you both. “Y’all are too cute,” she declares softly and your eyes flutter open. “Shit, don’t wake up,” she says frantically and you smile, yawning a little. “Sorry, Chlo and I overslept; technically, she’s still asleep. I’ll just grab food and be quiet.”

“Mere,” you whisper, eyes still shut. “Come see us later. When we’re both awake.” You hear her soft inhalation and smile inwardly.

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees. “Just text me when you’re both up.” With that, she slips into the kitchen and you close your eyes again, fingers scratching your husband’s scalp as he has what must be good dreams, if the flexing of his fingers on your chest and the visible swelling in his swimsuit are any indicators.

He wakes up maybe an hour later, stirring gently and burying his face in your stomach for a moment before looking up. “Baby, I had the best dream,” Brendon says with a yawn, stretching and kissing his way up your stomach, over your breasts, up your neck and landing at your lips.

“Yeah?” You giggle, pushing his hair back. “Must have been some dream; you were groping me in your sleep at one point.” He grins, nodding and kissing you on the lips again.

“It was really good. What do you say we go down to the movie theatre and watch something on the big screen? Meredith and Chloe should come too.” He suggests, looking up at you. You nod and he smiles, rolling back onto his knees before standing up and extending a hand. “Let’s go put on real clothes,” he says with a soft smile, “if only for the satisfaction of stripping them off each other later.”

The four of you are in the basement watching a scary movie and you’re so glad the recliners are wide enough for you to curl into Brendon’s side. “I hate scary movies,” you declare, burying your face in his chest. He laughs, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you into his lap. Meredith is lounging in her own chair, obviously entertained, and Chloe is texting in hers.

“I’ll protect you, baby,” he soothes, kissing the top of your head. Chloe stands up suddenly, phone in hand. “Everything okay?” Brendon looks concerned and she nods cheerfully.

“James, your friend from the other night, is coming to pick me up. We’ve been texting and we’re gonna grab dinner.” Meredith eyes her sister.

“Be safe and tell me if you aren’t coming home,” she says with a pointed look. Chloe rolls her eyes and heads for the stairs. Once she disappears through the door, Meredith slumps back in her chair and looks over at the two of you. “Y/n said I needed to see y’all later when you were both awake?”

You’re still hiding from the movie, clutching Brendon’s shirt, and Brendon pauses it, nodding. “We’ve got some rules,” he begins and Meredith makes an intrigued noise, shifting in her seat to face you both more fully. “You and I, we don’t touch. The only time I’ll touch you is if I want you to touch Y/n and I’m moving your hand or mouth.” Meredith lets out a soft sigh when he says ‘mouth’ and you can feel his arm tighten around you. “You won’t do anything to Y/n without my explicit instruction or permission. When I direct your hand or mouth, I’ll tell you what I want you to do to my wife; if you want to do anything else other than what I’ve told you, you’ll ask for my permission. You’re allowed to touch yourself as much as you want, however you want, without needing my permission, as long as it doesn’t interfere with instructions I’ve given you. I’ll try to only give you things to do with one hand or your mouth so you will have a free hand to touch yourself as you please. Neither myself nor Y/n will be touching you for your pleasure; you are here to serve as an active audience, not a third party. There may be times when I don’t need anything from you at all; you will just watch. There may be times when I will have been using you but will not need you in that moment; I will try to be gentle and wave you away or I will simply take my wife away from your reach. You will just watch. You are, of course, allowed to speak and say whatever you want to either of us - with one restriction. You may encourage and praise my wife but you will not call her a good girl, or any variation of that. She is my good girl, and I will be the only one to tell her that.” He kisses your forehead and you preen a little. “Other than that, you may speak freely. You are allowed to film and take photos at any point, as long as it doesn’t interfere with instructions I’ve given you - and on my phone only. I’ll decide what, if anything, gets sent to you afterward. As for communicating, like I said, you can say whatever you want to whomever you want, but you’ll refer to my wife by her first name or Mrs. Urie; no nicknames, regardless of what I call her, and you can refer to me as Brendon, Mr. Urie, or Sir, because I am in control. What limits do you have, is there anything you don’t want me to have you do? And what questions do you have, Meredith?”

You’ve crawled off of him and are tucked into his side, twisting to gaze up at him adoringly. Meredith slips from her chair and sits on the floor beside both of you, eyes bright. “No limits. I’ll do whatever you ask of me. Two questions. First, Y/n, where did you find him? Because holy shit…and second, I understand your rules completely, Mr. Urie, and respect and agree each of them…so when do we start?”

Brendon glances down at you and you smile, nodding, as he leans down to kiss you fiercely, tongue exploring your mouth and hands moving down over your body. He pulls back breathlessly and you whimper at little at the loss. “Right fucking now.”

-||-

It feels like time has sped up; one moment Meredith is on her knees next to Brendon’s chair in the basement and the next, the three of you are in bed upstairs. Meredith is sitting at the foot of the bed and Brendon is slowly removing your clothes and kissing you deeply, moaning into your mouth when you grind against him.

“So wet, babygirl,” he whispers in your ear loud enough for Meredith to hear. “You get turned on, knowing your friend is going to see me fuck you?” You nod, whimpering and clutching him to you. “She’s not just gonna watch me fuck you, honey,” Brendon murmurs, curling a finger and beckoning her over. “She’s going to help me make you feel so fucking good.” He looks at Meredith, who has eagerly crawled over by this point. “I want you to hold both her hands above her head with one of yours. I’d sit back on your knees, with one on each side of her head, if it were me,” Brendon advises, looking down at you as if to get your permission. You nod, biting your lip, and he nods at Meredith.

“Hey Y/n,” she whispers with a laugh, kneeling so your head is level with her kneecaps, letting you interlock both of your hands over one of hers and she rests them in her lap. “Your husband is incredible.”

“Hey Mere,” and you’re giggling too, moaning as Brendon kisses his way down your stomach. “Isn’t he?”

“Hold her still, Meredith, she’s gonna want to move,” Brendon reminds her and you gasp, back arching as the tip of his tongue slides across your pussy. Her grip on your hands tightens and she leans down to whisper in your ear as his tongue works its way deeper, still teasing you, tasting you.

“Y/n, you should see him right now, he looks so blissed out, eating your pussy; it’s like he loves it as much as you do. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Meredith is a little breathless, and already she’s moving her free hand up to rub herself through her pajama shorts. “So fucking sexy,” she moans and you close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of your husband’s tongue.

He’s been kind, not delaying your pleasure, instead giving you everything you need and like, his face buried between your thighs. You’re moaning and writhing and Meredith is doing her best to keep you still as his tongue rolls over your clit in rough circles. Suddenly he pulls back, grinning. You crane your head and he finds your eyes. “You can say no,” he mouths and then looks at Meredith. “Drop her hands. Babygirl, grab the sheets. Meredith, come here. Kneel by her waist.” He waits patiently, tongue licking over you softly, slowly, as she moves. “I want you to hold her open for me,” he tells her and you both try to stifle your moans. “Give me your hand.” She does so and he takes her index and middle fingers, pressing them to you. “Now spread. Babygirl, you okay?” You let out a soft mewling noise and he laughs, licking you again. “That’s a yes if I ever heard one. Meredith, don’t move this hand or these fingers.” And then his tongue is back deep in you, thrusting and rolling between her fingers and all three of you are gasping, groaning, whimpering.

“So hot,” Meredith whispers, sliding her shorts to the side and grinding hard against her palm. “Y/n, you feel so good, so wet for him.”

You’re biting your lip, back bowed as he licks and sucks at you feverishly; Meredith is moaning and you can hear her hand rolling over her own arousal and Brendon is turned slightly on his side so his erection is pressed to your calf and it’s all too much. “I’m gonna come,” you declare in a high voice and he gives another long lick.

“This is me playing with your clit, honey,” he tells you, his thumb moving gently over your most sensitive spot as his lips close over your opening and your best friend’s fingers.

“Come for him, come for your husband,” Meredith practically begs. “I wanna feel you come, Y/n.” It all happens so quickly; Brendon’s free hand shoots up and shoves her head to your chest and her mouth is closing around your nipple, suckling hard and her fingers are spreading you wider while his tongue goes deep and his thumb eases up on your clit but goes faster and you’re shrieking your climax, hips bucking hard. “So sexy,” she groans with her eyes closed, tongue flicking your nipple again before sucking it back into the wet heat of her mouth. Your orgasm has rocked you; you’re shaking from head to toe.

His tongue is deep in you; he laps up everything you’ve given him when he pulls back, pausing to kiss your inner thigh. Meredith’s fingers are still in place and her lips are still closed over your breast; Brendon sighs, nudging her gently, and she immediately pulls off, sitting to one side as he takes you in his arms, trembling. “You okay babygirl?” You nod, whimpering and clinging to him. “It was strong, wasn’t it?” He murmurs and you nod again, speechless. He kisses the top of your head. “You did so well, baby. I know it was a lot, both of our tongues and Meredith’s fingers, but you’re so good baby, you did so well.” He kisses you softly, letting you taste yourself and Meredith moans; you both look over and she’s kneeling, the two fingers that were against you in her mouth, hips still rolling over her free hand. “Yeah, baby. You taste that good,” he tells you with a grin. “You think you can take a little more?” You nod, pushing back so he leans backwards and you’re on top of him.

“Only if it’s your dick,” you say softly, kissing his neck. He laughs and rolls over so he’s on top of you.

“I think we can make that happen.” He glances over at Meredith. “Mere, you can sit this one out; this is just for me and my wife.” He nods his head toward the bedside table. “My phone is over there.” He looks back at you and cups your face, kissing you fervently. “I love you,” he whispers and you whisper it back, spreading your legs to cradle him between your thighs. “I’m gonna be gentle, babygirl,” Brendon promises as he tugs his sweatpants down. “Take care of you; make love to you like you deserve.”

You sigh happily when he slides into you, hips rolling gently against you. Your fingers grasp his shoulders and you meet his eyes. “Feels so good, Brendon,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him. His mouth moves over yours, tongues teasing and rubbing together as he rocks into you, slow and steady, stoking the fire of your arousal with each thrust. “I love you,” you repeat, gasping and clutching the sheets when he goes slower and rubs over a particularly good spot.

His hands move to your hips and he lifts them a little before turning to Meredith. “Black foam wedge,” he manages, kissing your neck. “Under bed. Get it please.” She scrambles off the bed and retrieves it, handing it to Brendon and he slides it into place, elevating you for him. “So good, babygirl,” he sighs, lips moving over your neck and chest, hands moving up your waist to meet his tongue and cup and caress your breasts as he thrusts against you gently.

“B,” you gasp, eyes wide, lips parted. “Kiss me; need your mouth.” He obliges, leaning over to kiss you. You squeeze around him, letting him moan into your mouth. “I want you to come in me,” you murmur, spreading your legs more and rocking to meet his strokes.

“You feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, one hand moving down to rub small circles on your hip. “Clench down on me a little more and I’ll come for ya, baby. Want to come in you.”

You tighten around him again and he groans, hips moving a little faster and his tongue is in your mouth, exploring. “Come in her,” Meredith whispers from your side, flat on her back, hand moving frantically over herself, his phone in her free hand, recording. “Do it Brendon, come in your wife.”

You both moan at her words, and his eyes meet yours. “Come in your wife,” you repeat softly, tugging at his hair. “Let me feel you, Brendon.”

His body stills for a fraction of a second before he thrusts erratically against you and you sigh happily, feeling him spill into you, setting off your second orgasm of the night. “Take it,” he mumbles, his lips on your neck and his hips snap forward with a fresh hot wave. “You feel me, babygirl?”

“Yes,” you gasp, dipping your pelvis down to keep all of him in you. “Keep going, give me more.” You’re clenching around him, and it feels so good for both of you, you can barely talk.

He grunts and rocks against you again, faster and harder now as you moan. Meredith has rolled onto her stomach beside you and is watching you both, eyes heavy as she continues to film on Brendon’s phone. “Take all of him, Y/n, let him fill your pussy up with his cum. God, you look so good like this.” She looks up at Brendon longingly. “She can take more sir, give her everything you’ve got. And when her pussy can’t take any more, maybe she’ll swallow the rest of it.” You nod, eyes slipping shut and Brendon gasps, thrusting harder. “I think,” she whispers, “you should have your pretty wife swallow the rest of your cum.” You moan and nod again. He bites his lip and pulls out of you and you slide down between his legs, taking him in your mouth from underneath. He groans, dick twitching between your lips and he slumps over the wedge you’ve vacated, chest heaving as you swallow eagerly.

“Gonna suck me dry, sweetheart, fuck,” Brendon moans, obviously using all of his self control to not thrust into your mouth as your hand cups his balls, rolling them in your palm, squeezing gently.

“Oh Mr. Urie,” Meredith whispers, running a hand over your thigh. “You should see your wife, swallowing your cum, so sexy. You should see her, and you should tell her…” and her voice trails off.

Together, you move in sync so he’s on his back and you’re still sucking and licking over and swallowing around his leaking cock. He looks down at you, your eyes closed, one hand stroking his dick gently while the other continues to tease his balls. “You’re such a good girl,” Brendon groans, running a hand through your hair. “You’re my good, sweet girl.” He holds out his hand to Meredith and she seems to know what he wants; she ends the recording and places his phone back in his hand. He tugs at your hair and, his hard cock still pulsing in your mouth, you look up at him, eyes twinkling with a smile as he takes a photo. “Babygirl, you’re my good, perfect girl,” he sighs, going limp. You pull back and swallow one last time, licking your lips. “Come here, Mrs. Urie,” he murmurs, patting the bed next to him and you crawl up to him, collapsing in his arms.

Meredith slips off the bed, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Goodnight Uries,” she whispers from the doorway.

You lift your head, eyes struggling to stay open. “Goodnight Mere.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: sex, suggestions of oral sex, language, dirty talk, the usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

His lips are warm on your skin, ghosting from your shoulder up to your temple. “Baby, that feels so good,” you murmur, eyes still shut, luxuriating in the feeling.

“Ohhhh, you’re awake,” he whispers against your forehead. “Good.” His lips capture yours briefly and his hand slides up your thigh. “Missed kissing these lips. But didn’t want to wake you just for kisses. You’re so sweet, sleeping all snuggled up into me.” You smile and curve a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down for another embrace.

“Well. I’m awake now and I’m free for kisses.” You capture his lower lip between your teeth and tug lightly, smiling when he moans.

“I’m so glad we’re married,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “Because,” he continues, answering the question he sees blooming in your eyes, “that means you’re my wife. Which makes me your husband. And one of my perks of being your husband is the privilege of kissing you for the rest of my life. I plan on taking full advantage of that perk.” He kisses you again, a little deeper this time; now in addition to the soft, teasing caress of his lips, his tongue is seeking yours and you respond enthusiastically; his fingers press a little firmer into your thigh and you whisper his name breathlessly. “Yeah babygirl, say my name,” he returns, grinning when you obey, whimpering, and rock against him needily. “I’m gonna give you my thigh; I want you to ride it until come on me.” He slots a thigh between your legs as promised and you grip his shoulders, kissing him fiercely as your hips move in soft circles to get yourself really wet and his thigh nice and slick. “Yeah, honey, rub yourself on me; fuck, baby, love that hot, wet pussy.”

You shift slightly, biting your lip, and he looks concerned until you shake your head. “I’m okay; needed to get a better angle…”

He smiles knowingly and runs a hand through your hair. “By all means, take care of your clit. You get yourself there once and I promise I’ll do it over and over again til you’ve come so hard and so much that my entire face is shining with you and I’m struggling to keep my tongue on and in you because you’re so wet, so I’m just sucking and licking and finger-fucking you hard.”

“Brendon, please.” Your words are soft and he grabs both of your hips to pull you down against him more firmly. “Yes,” you sigh after a moment, the new closeness and friction pushing you towards your goal. You move to kiss him, gasping into his mouth. “Yes baby, yes, I’m right there.” Your lips graze over his and he looks at you, eyes heavy and wanting.

“Yeah?” He whispers softly, brushing your hair out of your eyes, watching you writhe and pant. “Yeah? You gonna come on me? I want you to; be my good girl, my sweet girl, and come on my thigh.” He flexes under you and pushes up a little and you’re falling apart, clutching his shoulders and whimpering as you give him what you both want. “God Y/n,” he groans when he feels you come, “fucking love your pussy.” He pauses for a moment and smirks. “Love fucking your pussy too.”

You laugh a little breathlessly at his word play, dismounting and curling back into him. “Holy fuck,” you whisper, drawing circles on his chest. “I just came so fucking hard.”

Brendon nods, kissing the top of your head. “You did. And now my thigh is all wet,” he comments. “God baby, you’re my good, sweet, messy girl, aren’t you? So sexy, having you come all over me like that. You know,” he whispers, turning to look down at you fondly. “If Meredith were here, I’d let her clean my thigh up with her tongue, let her really taste your sweet pussy.” You inhale sharply and he grins. “You know she desperately wants to eat you out, right, baby?” You look at him with wide eyes, the disbelief visible, and he nods thoughtfully. “Oh yes. I can tell. If you wanted her and if I’d let her, she’d go fucking nuts and give it to you so good…fuck, babygirl, I just know she’d lose her mind in your pussy, licking and sucking your pretty clit and fingering you as hard as you’d be able to stand, til you’re screaming and coming on her face, her tongue working overtime to get all your sweet cum…god I’d be so jealous, just watching her take what’s mine; but I wouldn’t shove her out of the way to eat you myself…she’d be .moaning and telling you to come for her more, just a little more…I wouldn’t blame her for begging me to let her fuck you again, eat your pussy again, make you come on her face again; you coming on my face is one of my top five life experiences. If you wanted more and I was feeling generous, I’d have her do anything you wanted her to do. But… she’s not here and you don’t want her and I won’t let her. So I have other methods of cleaning up.” His voice has a decisive note to it. You’re breathing hard, watching him and he runs his palm up his thigh, collecting your slick, before wrapping his hand firmly around his dick. “Thought I could wait,” Brendon admits, head pressing back into the pillow as his fist tightens and he picks up speed. “But I can’t. Gotta come; Y/n, I can’t wait any longer, you’re so fucking sexy; I’m gonna come for you.”

“In me or on me?” You crawl over him, straddling both of his thighs and waiting for his response, two of your fingers rubbing your clit.

“God babygirl, such a hard choice. Think I’m gonna shake things up and go with on you. Wanna see my cum all over your chest and stomach.” You whimper your approval and he grins. “You want that, baby?” You nod and he jerks his head to the side, indicating you should lay next to him. “I’m gonna play with you til I’m close, and then you’re gonna get under me, so I can come on you.” You recline next to him and the hand not around his dick moves up your thigh until he’s got two fingers deep in you, going slowly while he rocks into his hand urgently. “I’m not gonna last long, baby, you’re so sexy, fuck,” Brendon moans and you press closer to him.

“Don’t care how long you last, just wanna see you jerking off onto my chest, coming so hard…come on me, Brendon, come on me, please.” You look at him pleadingly and his breath hitches as he bites his lip. “You close, baby? You gonna come for me? Want you to, want you to feel good…” you kiss his neck and moan a little in his ear. “Give me your cum; come all over me.” Your voice is high and breathy and he groans.

“God - you’re so- fuck, get under me Y/n, gonna come on you, oh fuck fu-“ he turns to hover over you and you cup his balls, squeezing lightly, sighing in pleasure when his first wave hits your chest. “Oh fuck, changed my mind, wanna be in you,” he moans, moving down so he can rock into you urgently.

“Shit!” He sets you off again and you clutch at his back as your walls tighten and pull him deeper. “Feels so fucking good,” you murmur, wrapping your legs around him and kissing his neck. “Didn’t think I was gonna come again but…shit, you know how to get me there.”

He smiles, lips curving against your skin with his head buried in the crook of your neck. “Baby, you know I’ll never stop at one.”

-||-

You’re both breathing hard, gripping each other tightly, and shaking with the after-effects of his second climax when there’s a soft knock on the door. You mumble something about not being able to handle anything else and Meredith will have to just watch the two of you snuggle and Brendon laughs. “Who is it?”

“Chloe.” You and Brendon both look at each other in surprise. “I’m starving and can’t figure out your stove,” she says with a pathetic laugh. “I’m sorry to interrupt…”

Brendon practically shoots out of bed, tugging his sweatpants on. “Don’t apologize, let me apologize. You shouldn’t have to cook for yourself; we’ll be right down,” he calls through the door.

You whimper as you stretch before rolling off the bed and heading over to your suitcase. “I’m gonna look so lazy,” you comment and he grins, watching you slip into a pair of shorts and one of his tees.

“Don’t worry about it; you always look gorgeous. Now let’s go feed your friends.”

“You’re awake! We can have French toast!” Meredith cheers when the two of you make it downstairs. Brendon laughs and glances at you. You nod and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

“French toast it is.” He works quickly; his face deep in thought. When he places the plates in front of the three of you, he leans across the island and takes your hands. “I have a project I need to work on today; will you all be okay on your own?” He glances outside, frowning a little. “The weather doesn’t look too great…”

You shrug, smiling. “We’ll have a girls’ movie day downstairs. We don’t need to go outside.” Meredith and Chloe nod and Brendon smiles. “All we ask is snacks and trashy movies.”

He laughs and crosses to the pantry, taking out boxes of Oreos and various bags of chips. “And the popcorn maker downstairs works.”

“We,” you declare as you slip from your barstool and into his arms, “will be all set then.”

After breakfast, he gets the TV up and working and hands you the remote. “Snacks have been acquired, popcorn is in progress, and you have Netflix at your disposal. All set?” The three of you nod and he smiles, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be working back in the office; yell if you need me.”

The three of you are piled into one wide recliner, watching Legally Blonde and reciting your favorite lines as Brendon walks back and forth between the office and the stairs. “Don’t look,” he warns and you can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s a surprise.”

He must have been working for 5 hours because you’re done with both Legally Blondes and have moved on to The Notebook. He comes back into the room and slumps into a chair, a little breathless and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You okay, baby?” You look at him, concerned, and he nods, clearly exhausted, patting his lap.

“Come here Mrs. Urie. Want you on me…if your friends can bear to part with you.” Chloe and Meredith giggle and nod, practically shoving you out of the chair. You stumble onto him, and he grins, pulling you firmly into his lap. “Hi honey,” he murmurs, sending a shiver through you. “Your surprise is basically done but I don’t want you to see it just yet.”

“Tease,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest. He laughs a little and squeezes your ass with both hands.

“Yep.”

-||-

When Brendon told Frank the two of you eloped, he insisted on you both taking the rest of the week. The end of the week was drawing closer, and Meredith and Chloe had to be headed back to Texas soon. Before you realized it, it was Friday morning and B was waking you up with soft kisses down your neck and stomach. “We gotta get up to get Meredith and Chloe to the airport.” He looks up at you from between your thighs, the words warm on your skin.

You groan and he laughs, hands moving over your sides. “Are we coming back here after we drop them off?” Your voice is small and you realize how much you love it here, relaxing with him and just reveling in your marriage and each other.

“We can,” he tells you, scooting back up your body and kissing your forehead. “Do you want to?” You nod and he smiles. “Then yes, absolutely. I love that you love it here. One last afternoon together, alone, before we go back to the real world.”

Dropping Meredith and Chloe at security was harder than you anticipated; the three of you are hugging and crying. Meredith pulls back to look at you fondly. “I really like your husband, Y/n. He’s good for and to you.” She smiles a little, hugging you again. “Call us if you’re ever in Texas, but keep in touch either way.” You nod and Chloe moves in to hug you while Meredith and Brendon shake hands before he laughs and pulls her in for a hug. “Take care of her,” she orders him, and he nods, expression serious. “Otherwise I’ll come find you and hurt you.”

He looks at her, sincerity shining in his face. “I love her more than literally anything else in this life. I will never, ever let anything bad happen to her. I would prefer not to die if possible, because I want to be with her, but I promise you I would die for that woman.”

Chloe releases you and pounces on Brendon for a hug. “I know I’m standoffish and aloof and basically a possum. But you’re a good guy and you’re kind and welcoming and I appreciate you. I know you’ll take care of Y/n, and that makes Meredith and me so happy.” She pauses. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever said to you.” He smiles a little, nodding. “My bad. I’m just…I’m…” she waves her hands awkwardly and he nods again, hugging her. “Just…thank you.”

The two of them step back, and glance towards the security checkpoint. Brendon wraps his arms around your waist from behind and you both wave as they get in line. “Baby, are you crying?” Brendon squeezes you tighter, craning to look at your face.

“Just a little. Didn’t realize how much I missed them until they were here.” You wipe at your eyes, and he kisses the top of your head. “Take me back?” Your voice is soft and he nods, leading you out of the terminal once they’re out of sight.

“So,” Brendon murmurs once you’re in the car. “Today is Friday. We probably want to leave tomorrow morning so we can have tomorrow afternoon and Sunday to get settled back in at our house?” You nod and he rests his hand on your thigh. “As much as I hate to leave this place, I am excited to get home and be in the real world with you as my wife. Here, it’s all been a fantasy - which is great; it’s fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong. But I’m ready to build a real life with you in the real world. Life is more than crazy sex and sleeping in and snuggling; life includes those things but there’s so much more that I want to experience with you. A family and buying a new house for said family. Career triumphs. Life with all the highs and lows…I’d rather have a bad day with you than a good day without you.”

You lean over and kiss him hard, tangling a hand in his hair. “You’re perfect,” you whisper against his lips and he smiles a little, shaking his head.

“I’m not, but I’m certainly going to try to be for you.”

-||-

Your breath catches as you pull up outside the gates and he looks over at you, concerned. “I’m okay,” you tell him quickly. “I’m just imagining celebrating holidays and summer breaks, either just the two of us or once we have a larger family and we’re bringing our kids here. Our kids will never know their grandparents, but they’ll know your parents were kind, hardworking, and generous people when they see this place.” You squeeze his hand. “I’m ready to build a life with you in the real world too.”

He smiles and raises your hand to his lips; pressing a kiss to your palm. “Do you want to see your surprise first?” You nod eagerly and are practically bouncing in your seat; he chuckles and parks the car before leading you inside. “I’ll pick you up once we’re downstairs; not taking any chances with you on stairs,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a long kiss before leading you down into the basement. “Okay, up.” He holds out his arms to you and you allow yourself to be scooped up into his arms. He walks through the mini-theatre and into his dad’s office. You look around, unsure of what you’re supposed to be looking at right now. “My mom also had a space down here,” Brendon explains, nudging a door in the back corner you hadn’t noticed before this moment. It swings open and he carries you inside, placing you delicately on your feet. You look around at the empty shelves, the piano, and the chaise lounge, obviously confused and he smiles. “This was her craft room. She’d work on whatever; she loved painting and scrapbooking and drawing; all of it. I’d stay back here for hours with her, practicing piano. It’s no longer her craft room; this is your library.” He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll have to get the books, but it’s all yours. I left the piano and the chaise because, well, I didn’t think I could move them. But I also hoped you’d want me back here a bit more than my dad was invited back here…so I left the piano, so I can play for you.” He looks at you sweetly. “And I left the chaise so we could have sex after I seduced you with my talent.”

You kiss him slowly, going up on tiptoe to press closer. “I love you,” you whisper, and he whispers it back. “Are you sure you’re okay changing so much of this place for me?”

He pulls back and taps your nose lightly. “For us. I’m changing it for us. My father had this place built exactly how my mom wanted it and it was theirs. Now it’s ours and I’m making it perfect for us and our family.” You nod and hug him tightly. “But if you don’t like it,” he murmurs, “I’ll change it to whatever you want.”

“No!” Your head shoots up. “I love it.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I don’t want you to have to choose between houses for your books, so just make me a list and I’ll get duplicates of your favorites ordered.” He crosses the room to what you presume is a closet and opens the door to a larger-than-expected room; you laugh softly and he extends his hand, beckoning you over. “My old bassinet. So when we’re here with a baby, you can still come read and relax because they’ll have a space down here too.”

You lean into his arms. “Our life,” you whisper, “is going to be so wonderful. I’m already picturing it; you playing piano as I read and the baby sleeps; eventually, you playing piano while I read to our child, and even more eventually, you teaching piano to our child while I read. And then,” you glance up at him coyly. “Of course we’d work on having another baby while child number one plays with his or her friends, and toddler number two sleeps, because let’s be honest; we won’t make it to child number one being old enough to play on their own without having a second. We’ll definitely be working on a third baby by then, maybe even a fourth.”

He smiles and lifts you onto the piano, stepping between your legs. “Do you want a boy or a girl first?”

You shrug. “I just want to have your kids. I don’t really care about gender, as long as they’re healthy.” He brings his mouth to yours and holds you tightly, tongue teasing yours and his hands moving up over your breasts to cup your face in both hands.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t want a son,” he admits. “But I also want a daughter, even though she’ll give me grey hair and high blood pressure if she’s even half as clever and gorgeous as her mother.”

“We’ll have both,” you promise, running your hands through his hair. “I’ll give you both. Even if it takes seven boys before we have a girl or the other way around, we’ll have both.” You laugh, looking around you. “We have the space. Oh god,” you suddenly groan, resting your head against his. “The neighbors will think we’re crazy or super-religious or something, with so many kids.”

“Nah,” he grins. “They’ll look at you and think, ‘yeah, I’d wanna get her pregnant too; damn.’ No one will bat an eye.” He kisses you again longingly before pulling back to give you a faux-seductive look. “You wanna go practice making a baby upstairs?” He arches an eyebrow with a smirk.

You shake your head, wrapping your legs around him tighter. “I wanna practice right here.”

-||-

“Do we have to get up?” Your voice is scratchy with sleep and he strokes your hair idly. You’re curled up on top of him in bed, where he moved you both when you started to shiver downstairs on the chaise.

“Only if you want to get up and get ready to head home so we can go back to work.” The smile is evident in his voice and you groan, burying your face in his chest. “Was that phrased unfairly, baby?” He kisses the top of your head and you nod. “I’m sorry. I guess my answer is yes, we have to get up, since we both like being employed.”

“Debatable,” you say with a grin. “We both like living in comfort. I’d much rather stay in bed with you, naked and fucking when and how we please, rather than go to work. But we can’t do both.” You roll off of him and arch your back as you stretch, moaning a little when your legs tense.

“Jesus, you can’t just do that,” he groans, pouncing on you and closing his mouth over one of your nipples, hands lifting and caressing your breasts as he licks and suckles gently. His eyes are dark and locked on yours and you grip the back of his neck, whimpering when his thumb grazes over your other hard nipple. “Moaning and writhing in our bed, like I’m not gonna wanna jump you after that.”

“Brendon,” you whine, hips rolling subconsciously. “I want it. I want you.” He smiles and takes the hand not on your chest and slips it between your legs. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you whisper with a grin. “Tease.” He smiles as you press his hand closer to push his fingers deeper.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” His breath is hot on your skin and you shiver in delight when he looks up at you with wide, almost awe-filled eyes. “We could fuck for four hours straight and you’d be a shaking, quivering mess, our cum all over your thighs and you’d barely be able to stand, but it wouldn’t be five minutes before you’re blowing me to get me hard again for another round. When it gets to be too much for my dick, when I can’t go a third time, you’ll just climb up and grind that hot pussy on my face til you’re coming on my tongue and I’m licking up all of you…or you’ll have me use a toy on you til you’re screaming my name. I fucking love it.” His lips move over your breasts again, moaning his approval when you arch into him, seeking more.

You snake your hand down and grasp his cock, stroking roughly. “I can tell you fucking love it,” you whisper, “because your beautiful cock is so nice and hard for me. You gonna fuck your wife with this nice, hard cock?” He groans softly when your fingers tighten. “Yeah? You gonna give it to me, fuck me, Bren? You gonna come in my pussy and then eat me out? Let me climb up and ride your face til I come?”

”Holy fuck….” Brendon groans, bucking into your fist. “Want that.” His eyes slip shut. “Want you to lick me clean when I’m done coming in you,” he whispers and you whimper, pressing closer. “You want it, baby? You want your husband to fuck you right so you can taste yourself on his dick?” You whimper your yes and wriggle down lower to press the head of his cock against your entrance; both of you let out soft, broken moans as he starts rocking into you slowly. “So tight, so fucking tight and wet,” he groans, and you bite your lip as you spread your legs for him. “Which is why this is going to be torture.”

You look at him, your confusion evident. He pulls out of you and rolls to lie flat on his back, eyes shut as he tries to steady his breathing. “Brendon? What are you doing? Brendon?” You’re confused and worried and he opens one eye to look at you.

“I’m not fucking you until we get home.”

You let out a sharp peal of laughter. “I’m sorry, what?” You look at him and he looks back at you, the suffering evident in his eyes. “Brendon, you’re what?”

He sighs, closing his eyes again. “I’m not fucking you until we get home. That’s my motivation for being mature and responsible by taking you home so we can get ready for work next week.” The noise you make is small and pathetic and he smiles ruefully. “I know, baby. I know. So let’s get dressed and get packed.”

“But-“ you’re grasping at straws now. “We could just-“ Brendon rises from bed and is pulling on a pair of sweatpants that do nothing to conceal or contain his erection. “Stop that; stop getting dressed,” you protest. “When you put clothes on, it’s one more inconvenience delaying sex; Brendon, baby, please.” You whimper again and he closes his eyes, resting his forehead against his palm before bending over to shove clothes in the suitcase. “Please come back to bed; please come take care of me. Baby, I need you.” You’re wheedling now, openly begging, and you don’t even care.

He looks up at you from his bent position as he zips the suitcase, your clothes for the day set aside. “Y/n, if I get back in that bed and make love to you like you deserve, we’ll never make it home. We have to get up and go home.”

“One of us is already…up,” you purr, rolling onto your back, arching as you slip two fingers in deep while reaching backwards off of the bed with your other hand, eyes clearly focused on the bulge in his pants. “Gimme.”

He laughs now, leaning over to kiss the top of your head, hips angled away from your grasping fingers. “I’m going to go make breakfast. Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

“I’m going to sue for spousal neglect,” you call after him, the joke evident in your voice. He laughs, shaking his head as he walks away.

“You do that babygirl; you do that.”

-||-

You pout in bed, hoping he’ll cave and come back to you, but the smell of bacon is wafting up and you’re feeling yourself weaken. You’re gonna end up going downstairs to him, cracking long before he does. “Brendon…” you call, eyes shut. “Baby…?”

“I’m not going to come up there and have sex with you,” he calls back, and you groan. “I will,” he adds, “come upstairs and snuggle and feed you bacon.” You mull this over.

“Okay, deal.” When he crawls back into the bed, he eyes you warily. “Don’t worry,” you grin. “I’m not gonna jump you.” He kisses your forehead and offers a piece of bacon. “Yes please.” You take it delicately from his fingers with your lips and sigh happily. “You’re so fucking good in the kitchen; I swear to god.”

“Mmmm, and don’t forget it,” he teases, feeding you another slice. “You gonna stop being my stubborn bride and get out of bed?”

“If I say no, will you give in and fuck me?”

“No.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what I say, so I’ll just behave and get up I suppose,” you sigh with a soft smile. He pops another slice of bacon in his mouth, watching you get dressed. Once you’re fully clothed, he springs up from the bed and takes your hand. “B, what are we doing?” He leads you down the stairs and out the back door off of the kitchen, your fingers tangled together as the two of you walk slowly across the backyard. You’re glad he laid out a pair of sneakers as shoes; he’s leading you towards the trails.

You’re halfway up the first hill and you’re singing softly to yourself. “Climbing uphill daddy, climbing uphill…”

He turns to look at you, amused. “Please tell me you’re quoting The Last Five Years and not calling me ‘daddy.’”

You laugh, shaking your head. “The Last Five Years. There are many things I will call you, but ‘daddy’ isn’t one of them. I’m saving that for our children to use.” He tugs gently at your hand with a grin and you continue up the hill until you reach a plateau and he wraps his arms around you, looking at you intently.

“I love you.” His words are soft and he kisses you gently, his lips coaxing yours apart but keeping the embrace most chaste. From this higher vantage point, you have a clear view of everything. He pulls away from you and looks out pensively. “I wanted to look at everything with you by my side. The last time we were up here, we were dating. Now, you’re my wife and we’re going to have a family to bring here. I just want to take it all in with you. I want to make you happy and I want to give you the world. I can’t give you the entirety of the world, but we have this. We’ll always have this.”

You snuggle in close, listening to his heartbeat. “I love you.” Your voice is quiet and he kisses the top of your head. “We can drive home.”

“That’s my girl. Hey, cheer up. If you keep being good, maybe I’ll let you suck my dick in the car.” He’s grinning and you slip your hand into his and meet his eyes.

“Promise?”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: risky sex (road-head, don’t do it; it’s stupid and dangerous), brief usage of toys, fingering and oral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“Y/n, please.” His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He looks over at you quickly as you press your fingers into his crotch. “We agreed on road head; we didn’t agree on teasing.”

You give him a look. “Baby, no one would ever agree to teasing. That would be insane.” You stroke him gently, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for teasing you; I’m not trying to. I just want you nice and hard for me.”

“Trust me, I’m hard.”

“No, I want you really hard.” You slide your hand into his sweatpants and curl your fingers around him. “I want you aching for my mouth, begging for my tongue, your cock throbbing and leaking before I even get you in my mouth.”

“Jesus, Y/n, you’re killing me,” he moans, thrusting into your fist. “Please baby, I need your hot, wet tongue on me.” He closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. “There’s a present for you in the outside pocket of the suitcase, by the way.”

You turn and reach for the suitcase and laugh delightedly when you pull out a finger vibe, still in its packaging. “Damn, I love you,” you whisper, unpacking it quickly and slipping it on your left middle finger. “Love when you beg me,” you sigh, licking your right palm slowly and jacking him again. “God, I wanna suck you off.”

“Do it then,” he says, his voice tight. “Let me see that pretty mouth stretched around my cock.”

“Ask nicely,” you chide and he looks at you, eyes wild, mouth parting but saying nothing. “Ask nicely and I will.”

“Please, babygirl, please. I need you.” Frantically, he shoves his sweatpants down with one hand, and you moan when his cock springs free; heavy, hard, already flushed and, just like you wanted, leaking pre-cum.

“I know,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes and sucking the tip of his cock in between your lips, tongue flying over his slit to taste him and hand squeezing gently before taking more of him.

“Oh god, your mouth,” he sighs, leaning back in his seat with one hand on your head. “Your perfect mouth, Y/n, fuck.”

You moan around his cock, and he shudders when the vibrations wrack his body. “You’re so beautiful with your mouth full,” Brendon murmurs, stroking your hair now. “You’re so beautiful, babygirl.” You press forward until your nose is against his skin and he groans, head pressing back into the headrest. “I can’t even look at you, fuck,” he says in the most pitiful voice you’ve ever heard. “I’ll come on the spot if I look down and see my pretty wife letting me fuck her mouth.”

You pull off of him with a moan. “You shouldn’t be looking at me anyway. Watch the road.”

“I am, I am,” he reassures you hurriedly. “And I’ve got cruise control on too. This next stretch is pretty straight and there’s no other cars; I promise.”

You give him a thumbs up since your mouth is occupied; he gasps as you swallow around him and you cup and caress his balls, pressing your gently vibrating finger against them as your head bobs. He groans and you taste him. You push yourself lower and lower before pulling back suddenly, wiping your mouth. “How are you so hard?”

“Is-is that a serious question?” Brendon pants, tangling his fingers in your hair. “Because I don’t know if I have the-fuck,” you’re licking him again idly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he talks, “-the, Jesus Christ, the ability to answer beyond saying it’s you -oh fuck Y/n, I love that.” Your right hand is tight around the base of his cock and you’re sucking the tip hard, your cheeks hollowing out around him. “Yeah baby, just like that,” he whispers, and you hear the dull sound of his head hitting the headrest again. You flick the underside of the head of his cock with just the tip of your tongue and he grunts, hips bucking. You moan and squeeze his thigh with your left hand, trying to tell him how much you love this too; the weight of his dick on your tongue, the taste of his pre-cum, the what-should-be-unpleasantness of your lips stretched tight around him, all of it. You move your hand down to use the vibrator on yourself and you squeal a little around him. He looks down at you briefly and you look right back, rubbing the vibe against yourself in small circles. “I love you,” he gasps, watching you bring yourself to a shaking orgasm as you suck him eagerly, your mouth going even tighter as you come. “Baby, I’m gonna-“ and he sounds choked; your eyes flick up and the hand that was on your head is now in his hair, the hand on the steering wheel trembling. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, “you’re so-fuck, I’m gonna come, fuck, wait, God please-” and his hand is back on your head, keeping you in place, and he slows down before pulling off the road and slamming the car into ‘park.’ “Fuck, I love you Y/n,” he whispers. “Oh fuck, now,” he grunts and his back arches, his thighs tense under your fingertips, and the moan he makes is so filthy and wanton that you wish it could be your ringtone. It pushes you over the edge again and you rock hard against your left hand, whining and moaning around his cock as he spills over your tongue. He’s filling your mouth and petting your hair as you swallow enthusiastically, whimpering and whining as you do, nuzzling your face closer to the base of his cock as though he’s holding out on you. “Look at you,” Brendon groans, “look at you, swallowing all my cum like a good girl; letting me buck into your hot, wet mouth while you swallow me and come on your fingers.” He can’t help it; his hips rock forward in short, jerky thrusts and you take it, almost purring in satisfaction at the sensation of him fucking your mouth, matching his thrusts by in how you grind against your hand. When he’s done, you keep sucking gently, rolling your tongue over his length to clean him up, not wanting to miss a drop. You can’t move anyway; he’s breathing hard and is almost doubled over, his chest pressing against your head, which keeps your mouth in place. After a minute, you make a small sound and squeeze his thigh again. “Ah, fuck baby, I’m so sorry,” he says frantically, sitting upright long enough for you to let his dick slip from your lips. You can feel how swollen they are and he brushes his fingertips over your lips gently, almost in awe. “Fuck, I’m sorry…baby…your mouth…I just - watching my cock slip through these pretty lips; watching you take all of me…while you came…oh fuck,” Brendon sighs and he leans over to unbuckle you, so he can pull you into his lap. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, going limp against his chest. “I’m so sleepy now,” you admit with a laugh and he runs a hand over your back.

“We can stop and take a little nap in the backseat you want. Or we can just recline my chair and nap and snuggle.”

“That one,” you say and then yawn. “Don’t wanna move.” He reaches to one side and pulls the handle, letting his seat slowly drop to a flat position. “Don’t let me sleep more than 30 minutes,” you tell him and he nods, holding you to him tightly.

-||-

“Y/n, baby, we’re home.” His voice is soft and your eyes flutter open. He must have moved you to your seat at some point because you certainly don’t remember moving yourself. “Want me to carry you inside?” You nod and he crosses around the front of the car, opens your door, and scoops you up when you stretch out your arms to him.

“That was longer than 30 minutes.” You give him a playful scowl and he nods, kissing your forehead. “You should have woken me up; I’m sure it was boring, driving in complete silence.”

“It wasn’t silent. You talk in your sleep.” He grins down at you as he ascends the stairs. “It was cute.”

“Oh god,” you groan, covering your eyes. “What did I talk about?” He gives you a smug smile. “B, what did I say?”

“Just how much you loooooooooove me, and you think I’m soooooooo sexy,” he says in a teasing, sing-song voice. “And you started using the finger vibe again while you slept; so fucking hot, and,” his voice is more serious now, “and, you told me how good and safe and loved I make you feel.”

“All true,” you muse, burying your face in his chest. “And that would explain why my pussy is so wet.” He nudges your bedroom door open with his foot and you sigh when he places you on the bed. “Lay with me,” you plead, stretching out a hand. He smiles and lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms. “Luggage later. Me now.”

“You now,” he agrees softly, kissing the top of your head before letting a yawn slip out reluctantly. He leans far over you and grabs the edge of the blanket on the far side, pulling it over both of you. “Sleep well, babygirl.”

-||-

“Do you have your lunch?” Brendon is calling from the kitchen and you call back the affirmative from the living room as you check your tote bag and his messenger bag. Blue pen, black pen, two sharpies, highlighters, planners, backup battery for phone, peanut butter crackers for an emergency snack, hand sanitizer, sunglasses, water bottle…

“Bren?”

“Yes, m’love?”

“You don’t have sunscreen in your bag; do you want me to grab some?” He starts laughing from the other room and you huff, annoyed. “It’s not funny. You need to protect your skin. You’re up there on that tower, and even late in the afternoon, the UV rays can be-“

He’s come into the living room and has his arms wrapped around you. “You’re sweet to worry.” He kisses your neck and you relax into his embrace. “If it means that much to you, I’ll wear sunscreen.”

You turn in his arms. “It means that much to me.” Your lips brush over his as you murmur, “besides, I just like the mental image of you rubbing sunscreen all over your body.”

He gives you an amused look. “All over my body as in, my arms, calves and shins, and the back of my neck?” You nod, biting your lip in mock seduction and he laughs again, kissing your forehead. “You’re cute. I love you.”

You blush faintly and press yourself close to him. “I love you too.”

He gives you a long look. “Okay Mrs. Urie, ready for school?”

“No.”

“Are you going to go anyway?”

“Yes.”

“Proud of you,” Brendon chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you to the car. “Maybe we can make out during our planning period,” he suggests and you nod eagerly.

“I’m gonna need to. I’ll miss your tongue.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees, pressing you up against the car. “Here’s a little something to tide you over,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you deeply. His lips nudge yours apart and you sigh contentedly when his tongue finds yours; you both clutch at each other desperately as your mouths move together. “So glad you’re my wife,” he says after a moment, raising your left hand to his lips, just barely brushing your ring. “So fucking glad.” He glances down at your hand. “But maybe you should take the ring off to avoid attention?” You sigh and unclasp your necklace, slipping your ring onto the chain, turning so he can re-fasten it. He presses his lips to your neck and you melt into his embrace.

-||-

“Ms. Milton!” Your old name, and that is how you think of it, is jarring to hear - but you both agreed announcing your marriage was probably not a good idea just yet.

“I’m sorry about the ring, baby. I promise I’m confident in you and us,” Brendon had murmured in the car. “It’s everyone who can’t mind their own business that I worry about.” And you agreed; the last thing you wanted was some coworker quoting divorce statistics at you. But nonetheless, your old name is jarring.

“We missed you!” To your honest surprise, it’s Eric who says this. The rest of the class choruses around him and you lean back against your desk and smile.

“I missed you all too,” you admit, and it’s the truth. As much as you love your husband and the time spent celebrating your marriage, you’re meant to be a teacher. You’re supposed to be here with your students. “Okay,” you clap your hands together, “I went through your digital submissions and I’m really pleased with what I got, so we’re going to move on. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Othello?”

-||-

“Let me first say that I do not regret any of the time we spent together and I am so glad to be your wife.” You close his office door behind you and drop onto his couch, sprawling out.

“Hello darling,” he says with a grin, looking at you over the sheet music he’s reviewing.

“Hi,” you laugh and cover your face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he muses, glancing back down at the page, noting something, and then turning his full attention back to you. “So…? You said what you needed to first say, what comes next?” He smiles at you seductively. “I feel like I’m going to like where this is going, Mrs. Urie.”

“I don’t think you are,” you say with a laugh. “I hate being absent. God, it’s honestly more work to be absent. I feel like I’ll never catch up on the grading,” you say with a piteous moan and he frowns a little.

“I can help you. You know I’m happy to help.” He stands from behind his desk and moves to sit next to you. He’s drawing small patterns on your thigh and he leans in close. “Even if my help is just offering some stress relief.”

“I don’t want to take too much of your time; you’ve got practices and competitions coming up and they need your attention too. I really just needed to vent about it; I’ll be okay, I promise.” You shift a little to make room for him to lie down behind you. “But I might take you up on the stress relief offer. What did you have in mind?” His fingers continue their patterns but slip up under your skirt and press higher. Your breath catches in your throat. “B…” you sigh happily and he leans over to nuzzle your neck.

“Would you like that, baby?” His lips press to your skin and his tongue rolls out between them, just teasing you. “You want me to slide my fingers into you and make you feel better?” You moan quietly and he shakes his head, kissing your neck again. “No, honey, I need a yes or no.”

“Yes,” you breathe and he smiles, the curve of his lips sending chills through you as his fingers nudge your underwear aside and “-god, I missed you,” you say softly, arching against him.

“Fuck, missed you too, baby. Rub your ass back against me,” he groans and you arch your back again, this time rolling your hips with purpose against his swelling cock. “You feel me, baby?”

“Yeah…” you can’t say anything else; his fingers are deep in you now, rocking and curling and spreading.

“Normally,” he whispers, “normally, when I spread my fingers like this, it’s either for my tongue or to get you ready to take my dick. But I don’t think we can do either right now.”

“No,” you sigh, reaching behind you to grab his hair, giving you something to hold onto while you grind back on him. “Feels good, Brendon.” You close your eyes and his thumb starts in gentle, barely perceptible circles over your clit. “Yes…” and the word is a high, breathy sigh.

“God,” Brendon grunts in your ear, “wanna feel you come for me, baby.” You whimper and his thumb presses a little harder. “You gonna be my good girl and come for me?”

“Yeah,” you gasp, “yeah, but I’m gonna- god, Brendon, I’m gonna-“

He reads your mind. “You gonna come hard and be all slick and messy like I like? You gonna soak my fingers in your sweet cum because you know I love it?” You can’t even speak; you can only moan and nod. “Well, we can’t ruin this couch,” he comments, sliding his fingers out of you. “Hands on the desk, legs spread, panties off.” You scramble up as best you can, heat and tension coiling deep in you and you cross the room to his desk as he quickly unbuttons his shirt and strips it off. “Skirt higher, legs wider,” he orders, and you obey, panting. “And baby,” he reminds you, “I said panties off.” You nod and hook your fingers into the hem, shoving them down until he can drag them down the rest of the way. You step out of them and he pockets them with a soft moan. You need him; you’re so close. You’re waiting for his fingers but instead, Brendon kneels on the ground before crawling swiftly between your legs and turning so he’s between you and the desk. “Don’t scream,” he warns, and with those words, he slides two fingers back into you roughly and presses close to lick your clit gently. .

“Oh fuck,” you hiss, hips rocking against his face. “Oh god, oh fuck, make me come, Brendon, make me come.” He adds a third finger and sucks your clit in between his lips. Your legs are trembling and he curls his fingers, moaning against you; with that, you’re coming hard, a guttural moan ripped from you. “Brendon,” you whimper, your entire body rigid as his tongue curls against you and collects your climax, hot and wet and slick and messy, as he predicted.

He groans and his fingers slip from you to hold your hips with both hands. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, “giving me all of you.” You’re still trembling but you’re coming down and you step back from the desk to let him move.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp when you get a good look at him. His mouth and chin are shiny; that’s normal, but you’re pretty sure those are shining rivulets down his neck and on his collarbone and chest. “How did I-“

“You came really hard,” he says with a grin, licking his lips and standing. “All over me.” You let out a strangled noise and pounce, kissing him fervently and pushing him down on his desk. He swipes the sheet music off, muttering, “I’ll clean that up later.”

“I’m going to clean you up now,” you whisper once he’s flat on his back. You straddle him, hovering over him to avoid getting his pants wet, and attack his mouth again before working your lips down over his chin and neck, the tip of your tongue collecting your juices and cleaning his skin.

“Baby,” he sighs, hands in your hair. “Your tongue…” You grin at him, tongue sliding over his chest.

“Gonna let me return the favor? Gonna come in my mouth?” Before you can do anything else, there’s a knock at the classroom door. “Fuck,” you hiss, and you both crawl off of the desk and you fix your hair while he frantically re-buttons his shirt.

“Hang on one second,” he calls loudly and looks at you. You’re slightly flushed but you’ve pulled your hair into a neat ponytail and have your skirt back in place.

He crosses and opens his office door and walks towards the classroom door. When he opens it, you peer past him and see Stacy from your second block standing in the doorway. “Ms. Milton,” she looks panicked. “Ms. Milton, I think I left my research paper for science in your room. I’m so sorry but can we-“

“Yeah, lets go.” You glance back at Brendon and he winks at you. “Mr. Urie, do you want to walk with us? I know you said you wanted to go by the cafeteria and fill up your water jug with ice.”

He smiles broadly. “You’re right, I did say that.” He takes your hand and the two of you follow Stacy back to your room. She turns to look at you both giddily and you give her a curious look as you open your door.

“Surprise!” The explosion of voices hits you hard as you turn the lights on in your room.

“Jesus!” You stumble back into Brendon and he catches you, arms going tight around your waist. “What is this?”

Stacy beams at you both. “It’s a surprise wedding reception!” You turn to stare at her. Brendon glances at your hand and you glance back at him, wide-eyed. Your ring is still safe on your necklace, tucked inside your blouse.

“Well, not quite” Brendon says loudly, looking at you. “We’re engaged.” The room is full of your students, mutual and otherwise, and you stare at him. “Just…engaged,” he murmurs in your ear. “Uh, why are none of you in class? And how did you find out about the engagement?”

Josh looks proud from the back corner. “We all made a group chat and asked to go to the bathroom at the same time.”

“That’s…clever, but not okay,” Brendon laughs and you grin, hiding your face in his chest. “And the engagement?”

Now Jessica chimes in from her perch on a desk. “We just sort of assumed you were getting married, you know, because of the baby.”

Brendon turns to look at you. “The baby?” You can’t quite read his tone and he turns back to the room of students. “I think y’all should go back to class,” he suggests gently, squeezing your hand.

“But there’s cake!” Stacy is protesting beside you and you look at Brendon teasingly.

“Yeah Brendon, there’s cake.” He looks at you and you smile hopefully. “We love cake.”

“Okay,” he caves. “Everyone can have one slice of cake, quickly, and then back to class. This is probably not cool of me as a teacher,” he sighs.

-||-

“The baby?” He closes the door as the last student leaves and turns to you, eyes wide and voice hopeful, and you take both of his hands.

“Brendon, I’m not pregnant. I would have told you, I promise.” He sighs and you hug him. “I don’t know why they think I’m pregnant; I’m not. You know I couldn’t possibly be, despite our sex life. IUD?”

“Yeah, I know. I just thought - you know, for a second-” He looks wistful. “But it’s okay.” He takes your hand and kisses it. “It’s okay. We’ve got time.”

“We do,” you agree and he kisses the top of your head and lifts your hair to unclasp your necklace. “I want to have your baby. But I also want to be your wife, just your wife, for a bit longer. There’s so much we’ll be giving up when I’m pregnant and once the baby is here. I want to live our life to the fullest before we really settle down and have a baby.”

He squeezes you tightly before leaning down to capture your lips and slide your ring onto your finger. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. The world is huge and there’s so much of it I want to see and experience with you by my side.” You both move to sit on the floor, leaning against the wall. Before he sits though, he cuts a slice of cake and after sitting beside you, feeds you a forkful. “Practice is going late tonight - you’re welcome to take the car and head home after school if you want.”

“Nah,” you shake your head, taking the fork from him and feeding him a bite. “I’ve got some work on Othello I want to get done. And,” you smile, “if I leave, how will I see their progress tonight?”

“Mmmmm,” he agrees, leaning in to wipe a smudge of frosting from the corner of your mouth and kissing you softly. “Sounds like we have a date on my band tower.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: dirty talk, language, oral sex, rough(er) sex, and I think that’s everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“Okay guys, take five minutes,” Brendon calls through the electric megaphone when he sees you carefully making your way down the hill. “My beautiful fiancée has arrived.” You blush and wave your hand to make them stop cheering, and you’re sure Brendon can see the pained, embarrassed look on your face - even at this distance. He chuckles and it booms across the field. “She doesn’t like it when I compliment her; everyone ignore her for the next ten minutes.” He watches you cross the field and turns towards the ladder when you approach, dropping the megaphone. “You gonna be okay climbing up in a skirt? Or do you want me to come down and come up behind you?”

You glance around and shrug. “No one is watching. I’ll be okay.” You look up at him with a smile. “Besides, they’ll know you’re doing it to look at me.”

Brendon looks offended. “That is my right as your fiancé.” He winks at you playfully over the innocent lie. “I am entitled to as much staring as I see fit.” You giggle and shake your head, and he smiles down at you. “Come up here, baby.”

You adjust your tote bag on your shoulder and climb carefully, gratefully accepting his hand and letting him aid you in getting through the opening and onto the platform itself. “What’s in the bag?” He looks at your tote with interest, pulling you in close for a hug. “I’d kiss you but I sort of think you’d rather I wait until we’re alone so I can kiss you properly,” he murmurs in your ear and you nod.

“The tote,” you inform him, “has our dinner.” You set it down at your feet and return the hug. “I missed you,” you whisper after a moment. He kisses your temple and squeezes you gently.

“I missed you. How many days ‘til Friday? I just wanna take you to bed and spend all weekend with you there,” Brendon tells you in a low voice.

“That sounds lovely, except you have a competition this weekend,” you remind him and he swears under his breath. “Language, Urie.” You tap his lips with your index finger. “You need to watch your mouth.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees, pulling you flush against him. “Watch my mouth between those thighs, tasting your sweetness, getting you all over my mouth and tongue…”

“Brendon,” you hiss, eyes wide. “There are students 20 feet below us!” They’re still on their water break but time is running down so most have meandered back over to the tower area, waiting for Brendon to direct them back to the field.

“Meh,” he waves a hand. “They’re not listening.” His face changes a little and he takes your hand. “Baby, I promise, if I thought for a minute- you know I would never-“

“I know,” you cut him off with a quick peck on the lips. “I know. I trust you not to say something inappropriate. Just…” you hesitate, biting your lip and dipping your head towards the growing group of students below. “Be careful.”

He kisses your forehead, tightening his arms around you. “Point taken, m’love.” He turns to face the field. “Finish up; I want everyone back on the field ready to go from the top in 30 seconds.” He clicks a button on the megaphone that starts a countdown and the students scramble. He gives you a sidelong glance. “Feedback and criticisms welcome as always, my dear.”

You smile and tuck your hand into the crook of his arm as you lean against his shoulder. “It’s so cute you think I wouldn’t give my opinion.” You smile up at him winningly and he laughs, shaking his head in amused exasperation. “Oh, you love me,” you retort, reading his face, and he smiles.

“Of course I do. More than anything else in my life.” The megaphone reaches “one,” and Brendon nods to Marissa who brings them to attention. “Okay guys, really focus. I want sharp, clean images. Be aware of each other. I know some of you have been dropping out from playing when the visuals get complicated; none of that anymore. That’s amateur. We don’t settle for that. We’ll do playing tests if we have to; please don’t make me doing playing tests though,” he says with a sigh. “Time is of the essence. Focus. Play.” He pauses and looks at you and Marissa. Neither of you have anything to add, so he nods to Marissa who counts them off. “Keep an ear out for the trumpets in Dies, that’s always the trouble spot.”

-||-

“Again. From the top.” Brendon sounds weary, frustrated, annoyed, all of the above and the kids are breathing hard after their fifth full run. You can see the tension in his shoulders; you understand and just want to take away all of his stress with your hands or mouth. The saxophones are the problem this time; you can’t hear anything but the first part. Everyone is exhausted and unhappy; you rest your head on his shoulder, squeezing his arm. “Saxes, I can barely hear the second and third parts on Incredibles. The first part is going to really soar; we need to build in that lower register. So we’re going to do it again.”

“Baby, they’ve done it five times already,” you venture and he looks at you, unfazed. “Okay, it’s your band.” You relent and he nods.

“Take a water break. We go again in five.” He glances over at you. “And you, Mrs. Urie,” he pauses to make sure the vicinity is clear. “Are in for it.” He grins, tapping you on the nose. “You’re supposed to be on my side. I’m going to spend the next hour figuring out how to punish you.”

“I am,” you protest and he arches an eyebrow. “I am on your side. I just don’t think making them run it again and again is going to do any good. They’re going to burn out. But, I will happily be punished.”

Brendon looks playfully annoyed. “There goes the entire point of punishment. And I see your point, I promise I do. But they need to know I’m serious about this. I refuse to lose by a fraction of a point, and that’s where we’re at now; quibbling over details and technique. But you’re right; this is the last full run.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you reassure him, kissing his cheek. “They’re really good and you’re a great director. And,” you say with a grin, “I can pretend to not enjoy the punishment if you need me to.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, babygirl, you can let me hear how much you love it.” A thrill runs through you and you look up at him with wide eyes. “Oh.” He realizes what he’s said and grins. “That conditioning thing really worked, huh?” You nod, visibly frustrated and his grin widens. “Sorry baby, try to keep it together for another hour.” You whimper and he leans in to kiss your temple. “I’ll make it worth it the wait.”

“You always do.”

-||-

“Mmmmm,” Brendon murmurs, pulling you in close. “Alone at last.” His lips graze yours and they’re so warm and soft and gentle and you just want to curl up in his arms and kiss him forever. But -

“Alone on the top of a marching band tower for all the world to see us,” you point out glumly and he pulls back, eyes heavy with want. “If you’re planning on ravaging me, we need to be off of this giant metal structure.” You pause. “Also, a reminder that I brought dinner.”

“I fucking love you. I’m starving.” With that, Brendon drops to a seated position, back against one side of the frame and his legs sprawled in front of him. “Let’s eat.”

“Not starving for pussy?” You tease him as you sit as well and he groans, eyeing you.

“You know I’m always hungry for you, babygirl. But,” and he hesitates, “I’m famished. I’ll eat you for dessert?” His offer is casual, but it affects you nonetheless.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you whisper, trying to sound as casual as he does. “They’re probably cold now, despite my thermal bag, but I got us Sonic cheeseburgers,” you tell him and his eyes light up with glee.

“I love you so much,” he declares, reaching for the foil-wrapped burger. “And it is still warm. Are there-“ he looks hopeful and you cut him off.

“Tots? Of course. And a large mozzarella stick order to share.”

“That’s how you know I love you,” Brendon mumbles, teeth sinking into his burger. “I share mozzarella sticks with you.”

“Really?” You’re laughing as you take a bite of your own burger. “That’s how I know? Not all of the other wonderful things you do for me every day to make me feel special and appreciated and respected?”

“Damn, who are you talking about? He sounds pretty great. You should keep him around.” Brendon grins at you over his tots carton and you smile too, taking a sip of water.

“That’s certainly the plan.”

“Speaking of what an amazing husband I am,” and he gives you a faux-modest smile, “what do you want to do for our honeymoon?”

You give him a look. “B, baby, we had our honeymoon. Remember? Your compound? The insane sex?” He chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“No babygirl, that was part of our destination wedding,” and he says those last two words with jazz hands, making you laugh. “Our honeymoon is something totally different. So again I say to you, Mrs. Urie, what do you want to do for our honeymoon?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” you admit. “I really did think that was our honeymoon so I just…never gave it any further thought.”

He scoffs playfully. “As if I’m going to give up private, romantic time with you. No, we’re going on a real honeymoon. I don’t want to do the stereotypical Hawaiian trip, I don’t want to do Disney, and I don’t want to do the Bahamas…but other than that, I’m open to whatever you want. And if you want one of those three, we’ll do it - just say the word.”

Your eyes go wide when the thought hits you and you scramble across the tiny platform to straddle him. “Brendon?” You look at him, your tone wheedling and innocent.

“Yes m’love?” He brushes a hand through your hair, twirling the ends around his index finger. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“You can say no…but…I’ve always wanted-“

“Then we’re doing it.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” you scold playfully. “How can you agree without letting me finish?”

He tugs your hair lightly and grins. “You said you wanted it. I’m going to give you whatever you want.” He brings your face to his so he can kiss you slowly, deeply, longingly. “What do you want, baby? Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Finland and stay in one of those glass igloos and see the Northern Lights.” You look at him apprehensively. “You can still say no.”

“Why on earth would I say no? That sounds incredible. Never mind the fact that it’ll be cold, so we’ll need to do lots of snuggling to stay warm.” He winks at you and you giggle, nodding. “When do you want to go?”

You shrug. “It’s probably easiest to go during Christmas break or spring break. We could do Christmas break, if that’s not too soon? It might be nice to have longer than the single week of spring break…”

“Two months is plenty of time to plan. I can make that happen.”

“And you can count it as my Christmas gift too,” you offer and he rolls his eyes, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

“Not a chance in hell. Let me spoil you, babygirl.” His hand runs down your side and you relax into his touch. You both linger in the silence for a moment, just appreciating the stillness and tranquility the night offers. His voice, soft and sensual, breaks the quiet. “You ready to go home?” His eyes are dark again and you can tell from the way his thumb is moving on your hip that he’s got a different kind of spoiling in mind tonight.

-||-

“Oh, god,” you whisper as his tongue flicks against you. “Please don’t tease me, Brendon.” He looks up at you, mouthing over you and tongue rolling more insistently now. “Yes,” you sigh, “like that, keep doing that.” He winks at you and you are almost embarrassed by the physical effect it has on you. His tongue and fingers work together, coaxing you towards your peak, and you’re breathing hard, hips moving in time with his ministrations. “Please,” you beg, gripping his hair tightly in one hand, the other locked with his at your side. “Please,” you repeat urgently, and he tips his head back to watch you.

“You doing okay, baby?” He licks his lips, eyes closing in bliss at the taste of you. “Because I’m doing great.” He shimmies back down happily and closes his mouth over you.

“I need you.”

“You have me,” he counters smoothly as he slides two fingers into your heat, spreading slightly. “You always have me.” His fingers take up a tormenting pace and he cocks his head to the side. “Or did you mean something else?” When you nod frantically, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he pushes you slowly towards your first of the night, he grins. “Tell me.”

“I-can’t-oh fuck, please- oh god - there - fuck me,” you manage, back arching and hips pushing against his mouth.

“God, Y/n, you make me crazy,” Brendon mumbles as he crawls over you, grasping his erection with the hand that had been working you. “How do you want it?” His hips are tense and pulled back, cock firmly in his fist and barely pressing into you; he’s waiting for your answer.

“Take me hard.”

“Fuck,” he hisses and rocks into you. “Jesus Christ , Y/n, how - goddamn, you feel so good,” he groans into your neck and you let out a soft whine, hips bucking to take him deeper.

“I’m right there,” you tell him, eyes tightly shut as you dig your fingers into his back. “I’m right fucking there, god, keep talking to me.”

He twitches to one side, indicating he wants your hands off of his back. When you comply, he takes both of your hands and holds them over your head by your wrists with one hand. He’s got himself still propped up on one arm over you and he groans as you arch and move under him. “You like being held down and fucked hard, honey?” You gasp your answer and he nods. “Thought so. Your pussy, Jesus, so fucking hot and wet and god, I just - I might come from - fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” Brendon gasps when you come with a shrill moan, tightening around him. “Babygirl, making me come,” he mumbles into your shoulder before biting your neck as his hips snap forward repeatedly and you feel him coming, filling you, hard and fast. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper; his body stills, tension still radiating through him as he collapses to the side of you and keeps your wrists pinned. “What are you-“

“Again,” he says simply, guiding two fingers into you with the hand previously holding himself up. “I want you to come again.”

You laugh breathlessly. “B, I’m not your band. You can’t just tell me ‘again’ and expect me to perform.” He gives you his best seductive look and adds a third finger as he curls all three forward, rubbing and searching insistently. “Oh shit,” you moan, clinging to him when he finds what he was seeking.

“You were saying?” He grins now and you wave your hand in the air as if to brush aside his gloating. Your thighs tighten around his hand and he nips at your collarbone. “Spread ‘em.”

“God, yes,” you whimper, obeying and hips rocking hard against his hand. You grind down as best you can, neither of you even fazed by the unintelligible, needy noises you’re making now.

“Come for me. Come for me, Y/n.”

You bite down on your lip as you come, the shockwaves ripping through your body. You’re gasping something about his cock and he takes the hint, freeing your wrists and flipping you by your hips to get you on your hands and knees. You scramble to arrange yourself on shaking legs, head buried in your pillow as he fills you again. “Holy fucking shit yes,” you say in a tight voice, your entire body already bracing for your orgasm. “Give it to me hard, Brendon.” One of his hands tangles in your hair, keeping your head down on the pillow while the other curls around your hip so he can thrust against you at a merciless pace.

“Fucking love you, you get me so fucking hard again so fast,” Brendon sighs, and you can tell his head is slumped down as he focuses on rocking into you roughly. “Take it, baby, take my cock; such a good girl for me.”

“Love when you tell me that,” you whisper into your pillow.

“That you’re my good girl? That you’re doing so well, even when I’m being so rough with you?” He pulls your head up with the hand in your hair while he smacks your ass firmly with the one previously on your hip. “Let me hear you.”

“Yes,” you whimper, rolling back against him. “Yes, I love it.”

“I know you do.” He tugs your hair again before pushing your head back down and his hips still suddenly. You let out a frustrated noise, you were right there, and he chuckles, hand coming down on your ass again. “Tell me you want it.”

“Brendon,” you gasp, slightly muffled by the pillow. “Fuck me.” He tugs at your hair as if to say ‘not good enough,’ and you whimper, trying to rock back on him, desperate for stimulation.

You yelp when he spanks you firmly. “Bad. Did I say you could fuck yourself on my cock?” You shake your head as best you can and he sighs. “What am I going to do with you, Mrs. Urie? Such a good girl but so bad at the same time. Desperate to be fucked, whining and moaning like you can’t get enough of me. You want it, babygirl?”

“I-“ you let out a sharp cry when he leans over and bites at your shoulder. “I want it. I want it Brendon. I want to feel it tomorrow; how good you fucked me tonight.”

“God,” he groans, rocking back into you hard. “You’re gonna feel it; I promise you that.” You moan and move back against him and he squeezes your thigh roughly. “Don’t fucking move.” His hands tighten, keeping you locked in place while he picks up his pace. “Fucking hell,” he gasps, “you’re gonna come on me. Come for me and I’ll let you clean my cock off with that pretty mouth when we’re done.”

“Brendon,” you whimper, desperate to move. “I’m right there.”

“Touch yourself. Play with your clit and come on my cock.” You force an arm under yourself so you can get to your wetness; he groans when he feels your fingers start to move in circles. “That’s it babygirl, rub your clit just like I do with my thumb when I’m eating you out.” You’re shaking all over and he doubles his force, moving you up the bed with his thrusts until he can grab the headboard with the hand previously on your thigh. “I can feel your pussy clenching me; gonna make me come, Y/n.”

“Oh god, now,” you hiss, contracting around him and coming hard. He grunts and snaps his hips forward, letting his own climax hit. “God yes, come in me.”

“Such a good girl,” he groans, hips still thrusting as he fucks you through both of your releases. “My good girl, taking my cock and cum.”

“Shit,” you cry, unable to help yourself; you rock back on him. He shoves you forward and off of his length. “What-“ you begin but quickly realize what he wants when he rolls onto his back. You straddle his face and lean over to take his shining, slick erection in between your lips, moaning at the taste of the two of you on his soft skin.

“That’s my good girl, suck me clean,” Brendon groans before sliding his tongue deep into you, twisting and tasting and collecting. He’s making the most sinful noises as he devours you; you’re reasonably sure he’s going to make you come again just from the combination of his tongue in your pussy and his dick in your mouth. You reach back carefully to slide your fingers around your clit and his tongue rubs over both fingers before going back deep.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, letting his dick fall from between your lips. “Oh god, eat me, fuck me, take me, Brendon, fuck!” You’re coming again and he moans happily, licking and sucking and tasting. You close your mouth over him and suck hard, loving how he twitches in your mouth. His face presses closer, his hands grab your hips, pulling you down, and he nudges your fingers out of the way with the tip of his tongue; you don’t mind though, you need both hands to keep yourself upright. He slips from your mouth, spent, and you chant his name, unable to say anything else. Your hips rock hard against his mouth and he groans into you as you come down from it. “Jesus,” you whimper, slumping over him, legs splaying out behind you as you rest your head on his thigh.

“Holy fuck,” Brendon agrees, fatigue evident in his voice. You scramble off of him to flip yourself around and press into his side. His arm pulls you in closely and he kisses your temple. “Love you so much. You need anything? Hot tub? Food? Water?”

You consider, body still trembling, slick with his and your climaxes and sweat. “Shower then hot tub with food,” you decide and he nods, eyes shut. “In a minute,” you add, snuggling into him. “Just wanna lie here with you for a minute.”

“You’ve definitely earned a minute of rest,” Brendon says with a yawn. “Such a good girl. My good girl,” he adds with another yawn and you pull the duvet over both of you, eyes slipping shut. “One more minute,” he mumbles against your forehead and you nod, already half-asleep. “Love you,” he manages, slipping into sleep on the last word.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: sex. A lot of it. Dirty talk. Language. Barely any plot. There’s some plot. But mostly sex. 
> 
> Word count: 4.5k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

Your eyes flutter open as his lips close around your nipple. “Oh god,” you whisper, eyes adjusting in the dark and hands instinctively moving to his head. “Good morning.”

He grins and laps at you, pulling back to just press the tip of his tongue to your breast. “Love watching your nipples get hard,” Brendon murmurs, rolling the other in between his thumb and index finger. “Especially when it’s my fault.” He sucks it back between his lips and looks up at you through dark lashes before switching to the other. “Good morning,” he finally whispers when both of your nipples are achingly hard and shining with his efforts.

Your head falls to the side and you catch a glimpse of the alarm clock. “B, it’s 2:30 in the morning. We’ve barely slept at all,” you protest, whimpering when his fingers brush over your lips as he crawls up over you before kissing you softly. “What are you-“

“Ssssh,” he soothes you, kissing his way back down your neck, over your breasts, and down your stomach. “Let me.”

“But why-“

“Because last night I fucked you hard and rough and fast, and now I want to make love to my wife.” He smiles at you sweetly and you moan, trying to keep your eyes open. “But my wife is tired, isn’t she? Sweet girl needs her sleep? ”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “You fucked me so good; I could sleep for hours.” He nuzzles the inside of your thigh and kisses your skin gently. You sigh and arch your back, hands still tangled in his hair and he nips at your inner thigh before pressing his tongue to it to soothe your skin.

“Go back go sleep, baby.” He looks up at you lovingly. You pat the bed beside you, thinking he’ll move back up and take you in his arms, but he shakes his head. “I’m gonna sleep down here with my head between your thighs. That way, when I wake up again, I can try again without moving too far.” He winks at you and you shift to spread your legs a little wider. His hands curl around your thigh and he nestles in, pressing his lips to you. “Go to sleep, honey. You just wake me up when you’re ready for more.” You laugh a little, fatigue still evident, and he kisses your thigh again. “I love you.” His words are warm and his eyelashes brush over your skin as he closes his eyes. “So much.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, already slipping back to sleep.

-||-

You’re not sure how long it’s been, but your eyes snap back open and you reach between your legs, searching for him and whimpering. “Whaswrong honey?” Brendon slurs, waking up, face snuggled up to your thigh. “Baby?” He moans a little when you play with his hair and you tug gently, unable to find the words. He yawns and props himself up, his free hand roving over your body in the darkness. He shifts a little to move up over you until his forehead is resting against yours. “Whatcha need, Y/n?” His thumbs are moving on your hips in idle circles and you feel so warm and pliant in his hands.

“You,” you manage to say as you yawn. “Need you. Keep dreamin’ ‘bout your mouth and tongue…” he cuts you off with a soft kiss, and you respond lazily, parting your lips for his tongue, both of you still half-asleep but needing the other. “Bren,” you sigh, spreading your legs so he’s nestled between your thighs. He sighs your name back into your mouth, cupping your face with one hand while the other moves down over your body.

“Can I?” He whispers sleepily, still kissing you. When you nod, he smiles and his fingers rub against you idly. “Wanna make you feel good, loved, perfect,” he mumbles, lips finding the spot you love under your jaw, back by your ear. “Wanna show you how much I love you.” You both moan when there’s a surge of heat between your legs and his fingers slip in a bit more. “My perfect girl,” he whispers, two fingers circling your opening, pressing gently. “My sweet girl.”

“Brendon,” you whimper and he nods against your shoulder, kissing it. “Please.”

“Don’t wanna make you beg,” he tells you, kissing your neck again. “Just want you to feel good. You want me to touch you?” When you nod, he carefully slides both fingers in, both of you sighing the other’s name when you tighten around his fingers. “You feel so good, so warm, so wet, so tight,” he murmurs, thumb grazing your clit. “Want you to know how much I love you.”

“I do know,” you reassure him, and he kisses your stomach as he wriggles down lower. “Oh, Brendon,” you sigh when his tongue traces over you. “Baby…” Brendon pulls back to kiss over your inner thighs again, moving up over your mound, mouth opening and letting his tongue caress all of you. You squirm under him and protest a little, but he quickly works his way back down.

“Ssssh, baby, it’s okay. I’m gonna take such good care of you,” he reassures you, bringing his two slick fingers back to your entrance and filling you slowly. His fingers move slowly, twisting and spreading, and he nudges your thighs farther apart with his shoulder so he can press closer. His tongue moves back between his fingers and he’s being so gentle and sweet and loving with you that you think you might die. “I love you so much,” he repeats, eyes on yours in the darkness. “You’re everything to me. You’re my everything. I’m so lucky to be yours.” His free hand that’s been caressing your thigh moves up to grasp yours and you squeeze it, moaning quietly when his tongue goes deeper.

“Love you,” you gasp, head pressing into the pillow. “Love you so much. I’m the lucky one. God, I love you.” He groans against you, eyes fluttering shut when he gets another good taste of you; the spreading heat from your core driving both of you wild. “Baby,” you sigh as his tongue twists and tastes inside you; he looks up at you longingly and you catch your breath. “You make me feel so good,” you tell him. He nods and pulls back, just mouthing and licking over the top half of you, tongue rolling up onto your mound and over into the dip of your hip bones. While his tongue is exploring, his two fingers work their way back into you and you whimper softly, arching under him. “Brendon, baby, yes,” you whisper. While his fingers pump slowly, his tongue teases its way back to your center, flicking out gently over your clit. “Oh god,” you breathe, rocking into his touch.

“It’s okay baby; it’s okay honey. I’m gonna get you there,” he promises in a low voice. “Let me take my time. You’re worth the time. Let me savor and relish you.”

“O-okay,” you whimper, the hand not locked in his moving to his hair. “Feels so good.” He kisses your opening softly, lips sliding against yours, tongue dipping and teasing and tasting, and you tug his hair, wiggling closer to his mouth. “Baby,” you murmur, “love you.” He mumbles something against you and pushes his fingers deeper, licking your clit eagerly when you cry out happily. “Yes, god, Brendon, yes, use your tongue; I’m gonna come.”

He groans, tongue moving faster and fingers slowing down; you’re breathing hard, gripping his head tightly and rocking against his face. “You gonna stay with me if you come? Gonna let me keep making you feel good?” His voice is low and rough; his eyes searching for yours in the dark. You nod eagerly and he purrs his approval, pressing his fingers against you firmly. “Come for me, pretty girl.” You moan low in the back of your throat and he rubs you gently. “That’s it, come for me, honey. Come on my fingers, come for your husband. That’s my good girl, getting my fingers nice and slick…such a good girl, my sweet girl,” he moans, kissing over your thighs and core between words. Your breath catches as he dips his tongue into you once more before crawling back up over you. “I can give you more?” His voice is low and his fingers are teasing you again.

“Please,” you whisper, cupping his face in both hands, leaning up to kiss him gently. “Please give me more.” You both moan when your tongue finds his and you can taste yourself on him; you wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him, pressing closer to get more. He pulls back to press kisses all over your face and down your neck before catching your earlobe between his teeth and tugging gently, tongue teasing.

“You sure you don’t want to go back to sleep?” He nuzzles the spot under your ear that makes you fall apart and you shake your head, whispering his name. “You want more?” Your voice is soft and pleading and he strokes your wet core gently, delicately. “Okay babygirl, I’ll give you more. Love you so much; just want you to be happy,” he murmurs in your ear.

You can feel him shifting over you as his hand leaves your heat and wraps around his erection so he can guide himself to you. “Brendon,” you sigh, hands moving over his back. “Yes.” He captures your lips as he pushes into you gently and you whimper into his mouth, hips rolling subtly to take him deeper. “I love you so much,” you whisper, kissing him again as he rocks into you slowly.

“I love you,” he replies softly, one hand on your face and the other interlocking with yours. “You’re everything. You’re my everything. I’m so lucky to be yours.” He ducks down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth and he sucks gently, eyes meeting yours.

“Baby,” you whimper, arching your back and pressing your breast closer to his mouth. He grins and opens his mouth wider, suckling over more of you before switching sides. His hips are still moving so slowly and tenderly and you just want to die in this moment; you’ve got everything you need.

“I know you probably won’t come like this,” Brendon whispers against your chest and you bite your lip, hips rolling up into his. “But it still feels good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, eyes closed as he works his mouth over you. “Don’t even need to come; this feels good. So good.” He moans against you and you tug his hair, loving how slow and loving and gentle he’s being with you. “I might come though,” you admit breathlessly. “I could. You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” His lips move back up to press to yours before he rests his forehead against yours, thrusting into you with slow, steady purpose. “My sweet girl might come for me?” You nod and he grins, breathing hard. “Want you to. Tell me what you need.”

You catch your breath, thinking for a moment. “Talk more to me. Tell me how it feels for you.”

He groans and kisses you fiercely, tongue exploring your mouth as his cock fucks you hard and slow. “Feels so good, your pussy. Feels like every good thing in the world wrapped into one. You’re so tight for me, so hot and wet and slick and god, I love you so much. You’re perfect. You’re my perfect, sweet babygirl, and I love you so much. God, you take my cock so well, honey. So well, and I-“ his voice breaks off when you squeeze around him. “Oh, honey, you know what I like, don’t you?” He moans, sharp and dirty in your ear, and you whimper, dipping your hips down to take him deeper. “That’s my sweet girl, letting me love her slowly. Letting me talk dirty to her while she takes my cock. God, I love you.”

“Brendon,” you gasp, fingers clawing at his back. “I’m close, I’m so close; fuck, your mouth is so- god, Brendon, I’m right there.”

“My sweet wife is gonna come for me, isn’t she?” His voice is low and you nod desperately. “My pretty girl is so close, Jesus,” he pants, catching your chin to bring your mouth to his. “That’s it baby, just relax and come for me.” His lips are soft against yours and you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders. “I love you so much Mrs. Urie, just let go.” He reaches between you and rubs his thumb over your clit and you break, whispering his name and feeling your climax creep through you, a soft tremor and warming sensation. “That’s my girl,” Brendon groans, rocking into you once more before coming. “There she is. Love you so much, so much, Y/n. I’m yours, baby, yours.”

“Brendon,” you whimper when he comes in you, and he kisses you gently. You cling to him, both legs wrapping around him and holding him to you, keeping him deep inside you as his dick pulses and twitches. “I love you,” you tell him, eyes slipping shut.

“I love you,” he repeats, pulling out of you gently and brushing his lips over yours. “So much.” He pushes your hair back and out of your face and kisses down your neck, hands scooping and caressing your breasts. “So much.” He slips out of bed and into his bathroom, coming back with a warm, damp washcloth after a moment. “Here we go, let’s get you cleaned up.” You moan as he moves the warm cloth over you, rubbing gently over your chest and arms before wiping lovingly at your thighs and center. “There we go,” he murmurs, “much better.” Brendon wipes at himself idly before returning the washcloth to the bathroom. He crawls into bed and cradles you in his arms, lips pressed to your temple. “Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, snuggling into his chest and wrapping a leg around his waist to keep him flush against you. “I love you, Brendon.”

“And I love you, Y/n. More than anything. You’re mine and I’m all yours.” He kisses you once more and you both sigh contentedly, eyes slipping shut and consciousness floating away.

-||-

“Baby,” you sigh, stretching your legs out and moaning as your alarm goes off loudly.

“Mmmph,” Brendon moans, tightening his grip around your waist. “Not yet.” You snuggle back down and he kisses your neck, groaning when the alarm keeps going. “Honey, turn it off,” he sighs and you oblige, arm flailing out and silencing it. “Five more minutes,” he murmurs, and you nod sleepily, pressing yourself against him.

“Five more minutes,” you agree with a yawn, running your hands through his hair. “And then I’ll make breakfast.” He smiles against your forehead and moans happily.

“You sure, baby? I can get up.”

You tip your head back to kiss along his jawline. “I’m sure. You worked hard last night; let me do this for you.” He catches your hair in one hand and brings your mouth to his, kissing you gently, tongue teasing yours. “And I promise,” you mumble against his lips, “it won’t be poptarts.”

He chuckles, eyes still closed. “You promise?” You kiss him again, drawing circles on his chest with your index finger. He catches your hand and brings it lower, sighing when you curl your fingers around his erection, stroking gently. “We only have two more minutes,” he comments quietly and you kiss his chest, slipping down his body to lick delicately at the head of his cock.

“I can do a lot in two minutes,” you mumble, taking him in your mouth and jacking him firmly.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, playing with your hair as you tighten your lips and bob your head quickly, taking him deeper. “That’s my sweet girl.”

“Your sweet girl wants you to come,” you whisper breathlessly, the swollen tip of his cock resting against your shining lower lip. “You gonna come for your sweet girl?”

“Maybe if we had longer than the minute we have remaining,” Brendon counters with a soft grin. You smile and grab his hips, taking him all again before pulling back and flicking your tongue frantically over his frenulum and rubbing the vein on the underside of his shaft with your index finger. “Fuck,” he gasps, hands tightening in your hair. “Baby, I just might-“

“Come for me,” you whisper before sucking hard. He groans and you wink up at him, hand pumping him with purpose.

“God, I’m easy for you,” Brendon hisses, hips twitching. “Look at you, rubbing your clit while you - oh god, baby, honey, just a little - god, your fingers, you’re grinding against your fingers while you blow me, oh fuck, oh hell yes baby, you’re so good, I’m gonna-“ You moan in satisfaction when he comes, his full body trembling and hands tugging your hair. “My sweet girl,” he gasps, back arching as he fills your mouth, groaning when he sees you close your eyes in bliss, cheeks hollowed out as you bring him off. “My good, sweet girl, I love you so much.”

You finish swallowing and pull off of him with a self-satisfied smile. You stroke him gently and lick over his length, cleaning him off before rocking back onto your heels to study him. “I love you,” you tell him, rubbing his thigh. “I’m gonna go make breakfast. Will you strip the bed and throw those sheets in the laundry?”

He nods, running his hand over his face in exhaustion. “Fucking hell baby, you’re incredible. I love you.”

-||-

Your second block students are taking a test on Acts I and II of Othello when there’s a knock at your door. You open it and are pleasantly surprised when you see Tyler with a huge bouquet of pink gardenias. You were expecting an administrator for an observation but this is way better. “Hey Ms. Milton,” he grins and holds out the bouquet and card.

You thank him and slip the card from the envelope. “Being with you is my greatest joy. Dinner tonight?” You smile, smelling the flowers and placing them in the vase you brought from home for this purpose.

When the bell rings, you breathe in the scent of the flowers again before heading for the band room. His door is open and you enter, knocking softly. “Baby!” His eyes light up when he sees you and he drops the stack of sheet music on the stand and crosses the room to take you in his arms.

“The flowers are beautiful,” you tell him, kissing him softly. “Dinner sounds great.” He smiles and hugs you tightly.

“Wonderful. I’ll drop you off at home before practice and then pick you up after?” You murmur your approval and he brushes his lips over yours again. “You’re beautiful.” You smile and thank him, looking up at him with big eyes. “What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you muse and he kisses your forehead, smiling. “And I’ve got something to talk to you about later too,” you add and he looks at you curiously. “Don’t be worried,” you reassure him with a kiss. “I just got a letter from the english teachers’ national organization I’m a part of.”

He shrugs. “We can talk now, if you don’t have anything else you need to do back in your room. Or I can walk you back and we can walk and talk.”

“That sounds good,” you say and he takes your hand, leading you back to your room. Once he locks his door, he looks at you expectantly. “The national conference is coming up at the end of November and I forgot I submitted a presentation proposal, but they were letting me know my presentation has been accepted, if I still want to attend.”

His face breaks out into a smile. “Y/n, that’s wonderful. Of course I want you to go present. That’s so great. Where is it?”

You grin. “It moves every year but it’s in Napa this year.” He smiles now too and pauses in the hall. “It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving break, and I’d be gone Tuesday night through Sunday night.”

“Or,” Brendon proposes slowly, “if you’re not opposed…I could go with you and we could just take off the Monday and Tuesday before break and stay out in Napa. I could show you the vineyard, my house where I grew up, everything.”

“That’s kind of what I was thinking,” you admit and he smiles again. “But isn’t State that Saturday before break?” His smile falters and you sigh. “I thought so. And you’re definitely going to make it to State.”

“Well,” he says slowly, stroking your palm. “Maybe I fly out to Napa Sunday?”

“That would be amazing,” you admit. “I just hate that I’d be missing the competition to be at my conference.” You’re at your door now and he shakes his head.

“Baby, no. This is an accomplishment for you and I’m so proud of you. Don’t give it up for me.” You go to protest and he places his finger over your lips gently. “We always perform late in the evening with the 4A class. Maybe you’d be done for the day by then and I could FaceTime you?”

You nod. “That would work. My presentation is slated for Friday, so I could just be sure to be free when you’d be performing.”

“Okay then,” Brendon says decisively. “You’re going to Napa.” He brings you inside your classroom and closes the door to kiss you softly. “I’m gonna let you work now. I’ll see you at the end of the day to take you home?” You nod and he kisses you again, eyes lingering. “I love you,” he murmurs, and you whisper it back, squeezing his hand.

-||-

“No dress code, just feel sexy,” he tells you when he drops you off at home. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way, but it’ll probably be around 7:45, okay?”

You nod and lean over to kiss him fiercely. “I’ll miss you,” you tell him breathlessly and he smiles, kissing you again.

“So much it hurts,” he admits, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Love you, baby.”

“I love you,” you tell him and step back to close the door. You blow him a kiss and watch him pull out of the driveway, fingers brushing over your lips. He waves and you wave back, grinning. As his car turns the corner, you check your phone. “Okay, 4 hours before dinner. Let’s start with a shower,” you say to yourself and head for the house, already missing his touch. “Or…” and your face breaks into a smile. “Yes.”

-||-

Brendon is up on the tower during a water break when his phone buzzes. It’s a text from you and he opens it swiftly. “I’m about to call. Don’t answer. Send me to voicemail. Don’t ask questions 😘.” He stares at his phone curiously but obeys, clicking the red button when your photo pops up.

“What are you planning, sweet girl?” He murmurs to himself, slipping his phone away as the students come back on the field. “What on earth are you planning?”

-||-

Practice over, he gets in the car and hooks his phone up to the car speakers. He opens his voicemail and sees a long one from you. He clicks on it, and immediately feels himself get hard.

“Hey baby,” your voice whispers to him from the sound system. “I miss you. And I’m home all alone and in our bed, and I just miss your touch so much. So I figured I’d play a little bit before I got ready for dinner…you wanna hear it?” Your voice pauses and Brendon nods, dazed. “I thought so,” and you giggle.

“Sweet girl, you naughty thing,” Brendon murmurs, pausing the voicemail to adjust himself. He knows better than to try to get off while driving, but he can at least be hard and comfortable while he listens to you. “Okay,” he sighs, leaning forward to click play. “Let’s see what you’ve got in store for me.”

“Oh god,” you moan, and Brendon’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “It feels so good. I’m using that toy you bought me at the mall with Meredith and it’s so good, fuck, wish you were here to fuck me with it. God, it’s strong, my entire body is - oh god, Brendon, drive safely but get home soon so you can play with me. Ooh, oh fuck, oh god baby, my pussy, it feels so good in my pussy; wish it were your cock though - goddamnit this feels good, oh god come home Brendon, come home please and fuck your wife - fucking hell,” you gasp and Brendon groans, pressing his palm to his erection. “I’m gonna come already, Jesus Christ I want you, come home and watch me come, oh Jesus Brendon, give it to me, make me scream your name - oh - oh fu- shit baby, yes, yes, yes!” You’re squealing now and Brendon can hear the slick sound of silicone fucking you and he grunts, jerking himself roughly through his athletic shorts at the stoplight. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you’re chanting and he’s murmuring how he’s going to once he gets home and you’re gasping, panting, moaning his name. “Brendon, god, Brendon, come eat me out. Come eat my wet pussy and fuck me good, god Brendon please, please, baby, Brendon I need you, give it to me- oh- again, fuck baby, there, fuck me there, yes yes I love you god yes yes yes ye-“

He parks abruptly in the driveway, turns the car off, and throws his door open. You’re doing your makeup upstairs and hear the slam of his door and grin, adjusting your cleavage in the green lace set he loves but hasn’t yet seen on you. “Y/n,” he calls up the stairs and you put the finishing touches on your lipgloss before standing to meet him. He throws open the bedroom door and stares at you hungrily, eyes widening when he takes in what you’re wearing. “Jesus-“ he groans and you walk over to him and drop to your knees.

“Welcome home,” you say simply, tugging his shorts down. “I missed you.”

“Get up,” he demands, and you pout as he drags you to your feet and kisses you roughly, before turning you around and bending you over the vanity. “You little tease,” he tells you, biting your earlobe and groping your breasts needily. “You dirty little thing; fucking love you,” he pants in your ear, pressing his erection against you and moving his hand down from your chest to your panties, rubbing roughly, making you moan and your legs shake. “But you’re gonna wait for it through dinner.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, dirty talk, sex, tension, angst. This is all @yagirlcammmm’s on tumblr's fault. 😂
> 
> Word count: 4.1k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“You’re not really going to make me wait all through dinner, are you?” Your voice is tight and pained and he grins at you from the driver’s seat. “I was just trying to do something nice for you,” you protest and Brendon pats your thigh gently.

“You look pretty, baby,” he comments, ignoring your pleas and moving his thumb down to rub over your knee. “I told you to just feel sexy, and damn, you did not disappoint. But be that as it may, you teased me so much with that voicemail and got me so fucking hard.” Your hand shoots out to cup him through his dress pants and he carefully moves your hand back to your own leg. “No, honey. Nothing before dinner. We’re going to have a nice dinner out where we behave, and then I’m going to take you home and then we can be as filthy as we want. You wanna ride my cock or tongue? Do it. You want me to eat you out for hours? I will. You want to suck me off until I can’t see straight? God, please. You want to be breathing hard, sheets sticking to us with our cum and sweat? I want that. We can do all of that. After dinner.” He smiles at you adoringly. “I love you, you insatiable little freak. I really do. Let’s have a nice dinner because of the food and conversation and company, not because my fingers are up your skirt and your hand is down my pants.”

You sigh resignedly but smile back at him. “Okay. You’re right. You’re right.”

“I know.”

-||-

“So what makes Iago so bad? I mean, Macbeth isn’t a good dude. Claudius isn’t a good dude. Why does Iago get so much hate?” Brendon poses the question as he takes a sip of wine and your eyes light up at the thought.

“Because Iago has no motive. Macbeth and Claudius kill for power. Not justifiable, but understandable. There’s a clear motive. Iago just puts all of this into action to be a dick and fuck with Othello.”

Brendon laughs delightedly. “Please tell me you phrase it that way with your students.” His eyes are sparkling and you blush and shake your head. “No? They’d love it.”

“I’m sure, but I love my job and I have a feeling calling a famous literary character a dick, even if he is the worst Shakespearean villain, and using the word ‘fuck’ would get me in some trouble.” You make your point as you slice into your salmon. “And as much as I’d love to get fired and stay in bed with you all day, A, you’d still be working, and B, I’d like to have the option to come back to work after our kids are old enough.”

He grins and leans over to steal a bite. “Fair enough.” He pops the fish into his mouth and smiles at you. After he swallows, he says, “I’m glad we share food.” He goes for another bite and you block him with your fork playfully.

“Before you steal anything more, let me ask you this: why are you so into Iago?”

He laughs and tries to sneak his fork around yours. “I’m not. But you love talking about Othello, and I love watching you talk about Othello. You get so excited; you literally wiggled in your seat when I asked. I love seeing you talk about shit you love.” You make an ‘awww’ noise and he grins as you move your fork and he can snag another bite.

“Such a romantic - ‘talk about shit I love,’” you tease and he shrugs, stabbing a piece of duck off of his plate and bringing his fork to your lips. “Thank you, baby,” you say before accepting the bite.

“Well that was cute,” a voice drawls good-naturedly from behind you. You turn and smile. Jennifer and 8-Minute Rick (as you’ve taken to calling him in your head) are currently following the hostess but have paused by your table. “How are the lovebirds?” She turns to her husband and explains. “Ms. Milton here teaches British literature next to me and Mr. Urie is the band director. They’ve just gotten engaged.”

“Congratulations,” he offers, and his voice is lower than you expected for some reason. You suppose you assumed that because he lasts about as long as a teenager, he’d sound like one too.

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile. “We’re doing well. And yourselves?” The hostess is shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as she waits for Jennifer and Richard to be done talking.

Brendon catches your eye and raises his eyebrows, asking the question silently. You shrug and nod, and he speaks up. “Why don’t the two of you join us? We’re in a booth for four people; there’s plenty of room.”

They exchange looks and smile back at you. “We don’t want to intrude.”

“Not an intrusion at all,” you argue, sliding over. “Please, join us.” This is a great idea, you realize. Having your coworker and her husband here will force you to think pure, chaste thoughts about the walking, talking, breathing sex across from you.

It is a good plan, a great plan even; the conversation is flowing freely and pleasantly between the four of you, and it’s only after Richard has popped the cork on the fourth bottle of wine between the four of you that things turn arguably south.

Jennifer leans across the table conspiratorially towards Brendon and beckons him closer. “I hear,” she says, and her words are only slightly slurred, “sex with you is fucking phenomenal.” Richard’s eyes go wide, you feel your face get hot, and Brendon just looks stunned. “Don’t look so modest,” she continues, her smile widening. “From what I hear, you’re excellent at being in control and you just give and give and give…Richard,” she snaps suddenly, getting her husband’s full attention. “You and Mr. Urie here should exchange numbers so you can learn something.”

“Okay,” Richard says sharply, “you’re cut off.” He moves her wine glass and you are still frozen, flushed, and a little furious. You give Brendon a glance and you can’t read his face. “We’re going to call it a night. So sorry about this,” Richard apologizes, looking chagrined. “She’s normally-“ he shakes his head. “Sorry.” Jennifer looks disgruntled as he guides her by the elbow out of the booth and she’s saying something but Richard talks over her. “I’ll take care of the check with the waitress, you two enjoy your evening. So sorry.”

Jennifer waves at you both, mouthing something unintelligible, and you wave back weakly. Brendon turns so his full focus is on you. “Phenomenal, huh? Good at being in control? And I just give and give and give?” His tone is level and you want to disappear. “Where would she get that idea?”

“They were hounding me at lunch; I had to give them something,” you protest. Brendon looks somewhat amused now at least, you recognize in muted relief, and you continue. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed.” Your voice is earnest and he sighs, taking your hand across the table.

“It just surprised me, that’s all. I’m so…well, I figured you understood that I’m incredibly protective of you and everything involving you, including - especially including - our sex life. I don’t want other people thinking about you like that.”

“And I don’t want people thinking about you like that either,” you say quickly, squeezing his hand. “It was just…they were incessant. I felt like I didn’t have a choice. I tried to be as diplomatic as possible and say enough to get them off of my back; I didn’t think they’d remember…” you trail off, eyes meeting your husband’s. “I’m so sorry. I just didn’t think-“ you break fall silent, at a loss for words.

Brendon smiles a little, his thumb moving in circles over the back of your hand. “Well, it could have been worse. You could have said sex with me was a chore and tedious.” You give him an incredulous look and he nods in mock-seriousness. “How do I know you actually enjoy it? How do I know you’re not just humoring me?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No,” he says and his lips twitch a little as he tries to keep a straight face. “No, babygirl, I’m being quite serious.”

“Take me home,” you tell him, standing from the table. “And I’ll prove it.”

-||-

“Do you,” and you pause to catch your breath and get your hair out of your face with a quick jerk of your head, “believe me now? Gonna stop holding out and come in me?” You’re straddling him, hands gripping his shoulders as you rock on top of him in quick circles.

“I might,” Brendon pants, reaching up to cup your breasts, “if you come on me first.”

Your eyes widen comically and your fingers dig in a little tighter. “Again?”

“You say that,” and he grunts, eyes sliding shut, as your hips drop down with force, taking him deeper, “like seven is a lot to ask for.”

“I mean…” your voice trails off as you pick up your tempo. “I honestly thought five was a lot; I’m surprised you - ooh, that felt good,” you gasp in surprise, looking down at him. “Surprised you got five out of me in the first place; six was a miracle. Now you want a - oh fuck - Jesus - Brendon, god, please fuck - seventh?”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” he grins from under you, “if I’m interpreting your words and tone accurately.” His thumb brushes over your nipple again and you shiver, rolling high up his length before sinking down with purpose. “Come here,” he murmurs, and you lean over to accept his kiss. “God, you feel incredible,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you earnestly again, clutching you closer while his hips buck under you.

“Incredible enough that you’ll believe me?” You ask hopefully, breathlessly. He shakes his head with a grin and grabs your ass with both hands, thrusting up into you roughly. “God, Brendon,” you sigh, kissing him again, moaning into his mouth when his tongue meets yours. “I feel fucking everything, holy fuck, your cock…”

“Yeah?” He’s breathing hard, sweat rolling down his forehead and chest, eyes heavy. “You gonna come for me, so I can come in you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, squeezing around him. “Yeah, fuck yeah. Oh, God, oh shit Jesus fucking Christ my pussy - I’m gonna - gonna - gon- oh fuck,” you squeal when you come hard, shaking all over.

Instantly, his hands close over your hips and he rolls you both so he’s over you; hips pumping hard as he fucks you through it. “That’s it, baby,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours. “Let it all out. Go fucking wild.” You’re thrashing under him now, whimpering and moaning and clutching his back. “Yes, baby,” he grunts and you feel him, hot and fast, the sensation so pleasurable.

“There you are,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him against you. “Come in me, fuck me hard, fill me up, god Brendon you’re so- oh fuck, you feel so good,” you tell him, clinging to him desperately as his hips thrust forward in sharp, short movements.

“You like that?” His voice is tight and breathless. “You like feeling my cum in you?” You nod eagerly, kissing over his neck and jawline. “God, I love you,” Brendon finally sighs when he pulls out of you. You whimper at the loss and he kisses your forehead. “Get some rest, baby.”

-||-

The rest of the week passes quickly until it’s Friday afternoon and you’re headed down to the field to observe their last practice before the competition tomorrow. Brendon waves at you from the tower absentmindedly and you wave back, smiling up at him. When you reach the foot of the tower, he beckons you up and you ascend until he’s helping you through the opening and pulling you close. He maneuvers you to stand in front of him and he rests his chin on your head. “Hi honey,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek before moving back to his chinrest.

“Hey,” you sigh, a little distracted now that the day is over and you can fully process everything. You’ve got so many Othello tests to grade and not nearly enough time. Not with the competition this weekend and everything Brendon is going to need from you. He’s been equally distracted and short and overfocused on the band and their various issues; you wish you could make it better but this is out of your control. It’s up to the kids.

“You okay?” Brendon asks, and you can tell from his tone that he’s not ready to deal with your day too.

“Yeah,” you say unconvincingly. He makes a disbelieving sound, so you cave. “I’m just so stressed about this Othello stuff. I have so much work to do and I’m so tired and today was just -“

He kisses the top of your head distractedly and turns back to the band. “Y/n, I can’t really do anything about this right now. Love you though,” he murmurs, but his voice is far away.

Your body stiffens for a moment but you force yourself to relax. You knew he couldn’t focus or listen and you talked anyway; you were just setting yourself up for failure in a way. “Love you too,” you tell him, leaning back against his chest. “Is it gonna be another late night?” But he doesn’t answer; he’s fully engrossed in the field.

When he finally relinquishes control of the band and allows them to pack up, you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s only 7:30; there’s still time for normal dinner and maybe some cuddling on the couch after a hot-in-both-ways shower together. As the kids leave, he turns to you. “You head home, honey. I’m gonna be here a while, getting stuff ready for tomorrow.”

“But,” you protest, “you need to eat. I was gonna make dinner and suggest we watch a movie and just relax after a hot shower.” You run your fingers up his arm coaxingly.

He smiles faintly. “That sounds nice, baby. Maybe Sunday after everything.”

-||-

When your alarm goes off at 4am the next morning, you swear and reach for him but he’s not there. “The fuck?” You mutter, patting the bed. “Where the fuck-“ and realization dawns on you, so you scramble for your phone. Sure enough, he texted you at 11:45pm, but you were already asleep - not on purpose, you did try to stay awake. You don’t even remember falling asleep. Hey honey, it’s late and I don’t want you driving to come get me. I’ll just sleep here. Will you bring me a change of clothes? My band polo is here; don’t forget yours. “Brendon, you’re gonna work yourself to death.” You swear again, dropping your phone and rolling out of bed, throwing things into a large tote bag. His change of clothes, your change of clothes, his toothbrush and the toothpaste, his glasses and contact lens case, and your hairbrush. As you breeze through the kitchen, you grab a handful of granola bars and an apple for him, eyes scanning the counter. “Oh!” You exclaim to yourself. “That’s important.” You snatch the Manila folder up, drop it in your bag, and head out the door.

He greets you sleepily at the field entrance to the band room, rubbing his eyes. “Stop rubbing,” you tell him, holding out his contact case and glasses. “Take them out,” you urge gently, and he nods wordlessly, beckoning you inside. He gets his contacts out and puts his glasses on, running a hand through his hair. You pass him the brush and he looks at you softly.

“Thank you baby,” he mumbles, fixing his hair. You pass him a granola bar and the apple and he pulls you close to kiss your hand. “You’re so good.” You kiss the top of his head, breathing him in. “I love you.”

“I love you too. The kids are gonna be here soon,” you say through a yawn. “You need to change still.” He nods and takes the change of clothes you offer him.

“Hey,” he turns in the doorway, his face gentle and warm. You get a soft fuzzy feeling, sure he’s about to promise you time and attention. “Will you make sure you grab the registration packet? It’s in a Manila envelope.” He walks away and your shoulders drop. Once today is over and you both relax, you tell yourself, it’ll be better. As for the registration packet, you already have it - it’s the one you snagged from the kitchen.

“I’ve got it,” you call after him, but he obviously doesn’t hear you.

-||-

The bus ride is quiet; everyone, Brendon included, is dead asleep. Except you. You can’t manage to fall asleep. His head is heavy on your shoulder and he’s letting out these soft sighs every so often. “Louder,” he says in his sleep at one point. He must be having a sex dream, you muse, and he wants to hear how good he’s making you feel, even in his dreams. “Saxes, louder. I’m not kidding.” He mumbles something else and falls silent and you sigh, a little disappointed, brushing your hand through his hair. He needs the sleep. When the bus pulls into the parking lot of the high school hosting this weekend’s competition, Brendon jolts awake. You stifle a curse; you were just drifting off to sleep. The student volunteer from the high school climbs on the bus and Brendon turns to you. “We need the registration packet,” he tells you, and you nod sleepily, digging through your tote and producing the envelope. You pass it to him and he passes it to the student, who opens it, stares down at it, then looks back at Brendon, confused. An icy feeling hits you. Wait…why would he have had the registration packet at home? Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck fuck fuck. The student passes it back to Brendon, who glances at it and then turns to look at you. “I thought you grabbed the packet,” he says calmly. You pale.

“I did,” you try and his eyes flash with something. “Did I not…?” He hands you the envelope and it’s a pile of Othello papers that you brought home to grade. Your normal “to be graded” folder was full, so you improvised and must have dropped this one on the counter when you got home last night. Fuck.

Brendon just gives you a long look before turning back to the student. “So what needs to happen?”

The kid sighs. “You need to fill out new paperwork.”

Brendon nods, processing this. “Okay.” He looks at you. “You’ll take them to the warm-up area and get them running through the opener. Once that’s done, they’ll need to change. Our class goes first, and we’re the second slot, so there’s no time to waste.” The kid is shaking his head. “What?” Brendon practically snaps, and you wince.

“You can’t gain access to any competition areas without hand stamps.” This poor kid. He looks petrified. “And I’m not allowed to stamp any hands without completed paperwork.”

“So you’re telling me that these students are going to sit here on this bus, doing nothing, while I fill out paperwork I’ve already filled out?” His voice is tight and he’s clearly pissed. “That’s absurd.”

This poor kid. “Brendon,” you interject, your hand on his arm. He tenses at your touch. “It’s not his fault.”

“No,” Brendon agrees calmly. “It’s not.” He stands up and gives you a cool look. “I’m going to go fill out paperwork. Again.”

-||-

Time must be moving at double-speed, you reason, because Brendon is still not back and the kids’ warm-up slot is rapidly approaching. They haven’t changed yet, and they’re starting to get antsy. In the 45 minutes between now and their performance slot, they need to eat, change, and warm up. Fuck. How have 45 minutes already gone by? How is half of your pre-performance time gone? Brendon climbs back on the bus at that moment and your shoulders drop. “Oh thank god,” you breathe, and he gives you a look.

“Okay, hands out,” he tells the kids, and he steps aside for the student volunteer to move down the aisle, stamping hands. “Get off. Eat. Change. I want you ready to warm up in 15 minutes.” You go to protest that that’s not nearly enough time for them, but you stay silent instead. Probably for the best.

The parent volunteers stumble off the bus after the students and the bus driver must have read something in Brendon’s eyes when he came back up the stairs, because he leaves too. Brendon meets your eyes and you want to cry. “What the hell were you thinking?” He asks in a low voice, obviously restraining himself.

“I wasn’t - I didn’t - I saw the envelope at home and didn’t remember putting my stuff in it and just assumed -“

“That seems to be a pattern for you, Y/n, not thinking. Not great from an English teacher. Your entire job is to think.” You’re shocked into silence. He keeps going. ”You just grabbed something - you didn’t even check?” He snaps at you and you feel sick.

“No,” you snap back, “I was exhausted and you were just barking orders at me,” that’s not exactly true, a voice in your head argues, but you’re on a roll, “and I was relieved to have this one thing already done, proud of myself for grabbing it from the kitchen counter and -“

“I cannot believe you,” he mutters, staring past you and out a window. “I knew you were stressed about your Othello shit and I knew I hadn’t been giving you my full attention when you were complaining about it and that bothered you, but this?”

You freeze. “Do you think I did this on purpose?” Your voice is shrill and you’re stunned. “Do you think I did this to make a point to you about not listening to me?” He goes to open his mouth and you hold up a hand. “No. I love you, Brendon, but you need to think very carefully about the next thing you say to me.”

You’re both breathing hard and he levels a glance at you. “I think,” he says slowly and clearly, as though you might not get it, “you realized your mistake sooner than you let on. And I think that while you didn’t intend to do this, you let it happen because you knew it would get my attention.”

You feel the anger flare up inside you and you scoff. “I don’t need to get your attention with petty bullshit, Brendon. I’m your wife, not some freshman who doesn’t know how to get a guy’s attention. Your wife. Your wife, Brendon. Think about what you’re saying your wife did.”

“Y/n, first, this isn’t petty bullshit. You literally fucked with my job. If we don’t do well in this competition, our chances at State drop. If I don’t come through with championships, why would they keep me on staff? Second, don’t deny it - you were stressed about Othello and focused on it. God, Y/n, you don’t see it, but you’re careless at times and you’re focused on your own issues and you pushed mine aside. I love you, but you can be so careless and selfish at times.”

You shriek a little, stunned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“This, and then dinner with Jennifer and her husband? You didn’t have to tell your coworkers about our sex life, but you did, because you liked the attention.”

“Brendon,” you say simply, shocked. “Brendon, what the fuck.”

“Yeah, Y/n, what the fuck?” He looks at you a little sadly and turns on his heel.

“Brendon,” you yell, tears causing your voice to shake and then crack. “Brendon, wait-“ but he’s gone.

You rush down the bus steps but he’s already into the warm-up area. You follow him, but the volunteer at the gate stops you. “Sorry, no one without a stamp can access competition areas.”

You glance at your hand. Fuck. The kid didn’t stamp you. “Okay, clearly I’m with the Putnam High band,” you say frantically, gesturing at your polo. “Please.”

“Sorry ma’am, rules are rules.” She doesn’t sound sorry at all. You narrow your eyes at her sharply before turning back to the entrance.

“Brendon!” Your voice cracks again and you know he hears you because you can see his head twitch. He doesn’t turn. “Brendon, please!”

Nothing. You might as well go back to the bus to wait.

Fuck.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and tension and angst and I think that’s all?
> 
> Word count: 3.5k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“From Putnam High School in Putnam, Connecticut, the Putnam High Marching Band is under the direction of Mr. Brendon Urie and drum major Marissa Wayford. They are performing Heroes and Villains, arranged by Mr. Brendon Urie. Putnam High Marching Band, you may take the field for competition.” The sound of his name sets off a fresh wave of tears and you bury your face in your hands.

They sound okay. You’re hearing everything muffled from the stadium walls, but they sound okay. You wonder how he’s feeling right now. Probably blaming you, you think with a whimper, probably angry that they got so little time in the warm-up area. You hope he’s calmed down. You hope he’s able to enjoy this moment, his show, his work, his accomplishment at preliminaries. You want to be enjoying it, and you are enjoying the parts that escape the stadium. “The saxes got their shit together,” you say aloud to no one, and you wait for the trumpets. You might not hear it from this distance and - no there they are and they sound - “oooh,” you wince, closing your eyes. Maybe that was a distortion of sound because of the distance. Hopefully, that was a distortion of sound because of the distance…

You sit and listen to the rest of the show anxiously, and when it’s over and there’s a roar of thunderous applause, you can’t help but wonder if he’s missing you in this moment.

-||-

Brendon folds his arms across his chest and closes his eyes. The crowd is explosively loud; they loved it. He turns to gauge your reaction, but he freezes. You’re not here and it’s his fault and the thought is an icicle to his brain. Numb and stabbing all at once, crippling, it’s enough to bring him to his knees. He remains upright, but the weak, sick feeling persists. “I fucked up,” he mutters to himself, and one of the volunteer dads turns to him in surprise.

“No, the show is incredible! Everyone loved it,” he reassures him, thinking he’s worried about their scores. Brendon shakes his head slowly and he looks puzzled. After a moment, he glances around. “Where’s Ms. Milton?”

Brendon sighs. “I’m not sure.” The dad looks at Brendon, obviously expecting more since all of the parents know you’re engaged. Brendon runs a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “We had a disagreement and I’m not sure where she is because I left her on the bus and didn’t go back to get her into the warm-up area. So I don’t know.” The dad whistles lowly and Brendon nods. “I really messed up.”

The rest of the morning into the afternoon is long, and Brendon wants to go back to the bus, but you aren’t replying to any of his texts and he’s guessing you just want to be left alone. “Although you already did that,” he tells himself bitterly. “Asshole.” Best case scenario, he thinks, is you’ve fallen asleep. You were so tired; you really needed to sleep; God, he hopes you’re asleep. Worst case scenario, and he winces at the thought, is that you’re wide awake and crying and it’s all his fucking fault. At this point, there’s only an hour until placements, so to walk back to the bus and then back to the stadium would take…”fuck it,” Brendon says quietly, and looks for the closest parent volunteer. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her before turning on his heel and walking briskly towards the bus lot.

When he approaches the bus, your head snaps up. You can hear his footsteps on the gravel and you instinctively know it’s him. You know his stride and his lilt; he’s mere moments from prying open the doors and finding you. You wipe at your eyes, brushing the tears away, and stash your phone in your tote as he climbs the stairs.

“Baby,” he whispers, sounding broken, when he sees your tear-stained face. “Oh my god, Y/n-“ he stops when you hold up a hand.

“Please don’t say anything else to me right now,” you request in a low voice. Brendon looks like he’s been punched in the stomach. Good, you think, let him be miserable. No, you quickly correct yourself. You don’t want him to be miserable. You really don’t. But he doesn’t just get to come back and call you sweet names and pretend this morning didn’t happen.

“I wanted to see-“ and he keeps talking even when you protest, “-if you wanted to come to the awards.” You give him a blank stare, let your eyes flick to your stampless hand, and then back to him.

“I’ll stay here.” Your tone and face are both expressionless.

“But-“

“I’ll stay here.”

“Y/n, ba-“

“Stop.”

And to your surprise, he does. He looks devastated and he meets your eyes with a mournful look. “Okay.” He watches you for a long moment and you shift away from him, on the brink of fresh tears again. “I love you, Y/n. You know I love you more than anything.” His voice is soft and you can’t help the choked sob that slips out.

“Just go,” you beg, your head falling into your hands as your shoulders shake. “Please.” You’re pretty sure he’s also crying when he steps off the bus.

Once he’s gone, you reach for your phone and start making a list.

-||-

“Third place isn’t bad, Marissa.” Brendon is attempting to sooth his drum major but his own thoughts are in turmoil. Third. It’s the worst the band has ever done under his direction, but he refuses to dwell on that. Third still qualifies for state, but barely. But barely doesn’t matter, he tells himself harshly. What matters is state. But if the band had had longer in the warm-up area…if you hadn’t…maybe they would have…maybe they might have…No. He pauses. No, what matters is you. You are the only thing that matters. Not what you did or didn’t do, just you. But you don’t want him right now, he thinks with a stab of pain, and it’s all his fucking fault.

-||-

You’re half-asleep when you hear the band headed for the bus, but you don’t feel like dealing with Brendon right now, so you curl tighter into yourself against the window and close your eyes. The doors open and the students clamor on board, chattering loudly - and then it’s a wave of silence, rippling back over them, when they see you sleeping. They’re quiet now, shuffling into their seats, whispering to each other, and then he’s seated next to you. You make a conscious effort to make your breathing slow and rhythmic and you brace yourself, so when his hand touches your back lightly, you don’t flinch.

His voice is also soft when he speaks. ”Hi, baby. I hope you’re sleeping well. We got third, so we’re going to state. I’ll wake you up when we get home. I love you.” You’re proud of yourself for not reacting to anything he’s said and he sighs. ”I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t sleep the entire ride, and you’re in a lingering half-sleep, emotions too high to succumb to your need for rest. Your mind is racing, running over your list repeatedly, checking for any errors or omissions. When the bus pulls up at the school, you pretend to wake up, stretching and yawning. You don’t look at him though, and he starts to say your name but stops with a deep sigh. The students climb off of the bus and then the parents and then Brendon; you’re the last one off. You pull your keys from your tote and get in your car wordlessly.

When you get home, you move upstairs and grab a suitcase. You wrench it open and let it sit on the bed while you grab things from the closet and bathroom, referencing the list on your phone every so often. You’re working speedily, desperately wanting to be gone before he gets home. You know that’s the cowardly thing to do, but you just can’t face him right now. ”Why?” you ask yourself aloud. “Is it because he hurt you, or because you don’t want to see him hurting?” You consider as you grab your laptop and chargers. “Probably both.”

You zip the suitcase shut and haul it off the bed, carrying it downstairs. The door opens as you hit the first floor and he steps into the foyer. His eyes register you in front of him, suitcase in hand, purse over your shoulder, and it’s like his entire body crumbles from the inside out. You’re both frozen where you are; you more out of inability to move past him, though his is likely more shock. His words confirm this, and his voice is low and trembling. “You’re leaving me?”

The words rip through you and tears spring forth as you shake your head. “I’m not leaving you. I’m just leaving.”

“How are they different?” Brendon demands, hands raking through his hair, eyes wild. “You’re leaving.”

“I just need time. I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats in a low voice, face contorted somewhere between devastation and frustration. “You’re running.” Like you always do, and though those words go unspoken, they’re loud and clear between you.

“Of course I am,” you snap, the tears rolling hot down your cheeks now. “How can I stay, knowing how you feel about me?”

“How I feel about you?” Brendon repeats, eyes wide. “I love you.” He takes a step towards you and you instinctively step back. He’s crying now too, and you clutch the suitcase harder.

“And yet I’m careless and selfish and attention-hungry. I’m spiteful and willing to fuck with your job. I’m too focused on my own problems to consider yours. Is that what’s happening here? I’m running and focusing on myself and not considering your feelings in any of this?”

“That’s how it feels,” Brendon whispers, not meeting your eyes. “I shouldn’t have said any of the other stuff. It was wrong.” There’s a long silence.

“Well,” you mutter, “maybe you’re not wrong, because I am leaving. Let me through.” He stares at you, and you feel your heart breaking a little. “Brendon, let me go.”

“Where are you going?” He steps aside as he asks and you don’t respond. “Baby, where are you going?” Wordlessly, you close the door behind you and you head for your car. He pulls the door open and follows you, reaching for you. You slide into the driver’s seat and close the door as he stands by your car, shaking and clutching at his hair, the very picture of anguish. “Please,” he says, and while it’s muffled somewhat by the glass, it pierces you. “Just tell me you’re safe. You don’t have to tell me where you’re going. Just…tell me when you’re safe. I need to know you’re safe.”

-||-

Really, you think, he should have been able to figure this out with no confusion. Your apartment is still in your name; why would you go anywhere else? When you get into the old space, you head straight for the bedroom. It’s been stripped of sheets and the mattress is bare, but you need to crash. As soon as your head hits the plush surface, you’re sobbing, breath hitching, gasping. “Fuck,” you sob, “fuck.”

-||-

It is the longest week of your life. Flowers are delivered every day. The card is always the same. He’s sorry. He loves you. Come home when you’re ready. The kids know something is up and haven’t said anything, which is for the best. At least, not to you. Eric muttered to Jessica that you should forgive Brendon soon, before you run out of space for flowers. He hasn’t come by your room at least; he’s giving you your space.

The only time you’ve seen him has been during the professional development meeting during your planning. You arrived first and when he came into the room, he met your eyes. You’re reluctant to let anyone else know there’s a problem and you nod stiffly. He sits next to you and turns to say something, but instead touches your hand lightly. You don’t flinch, but you pull your hand back and into your lap. He doesn’t try anything else. When the meeting is over, and you are all standing, he ducks his head and whispers, “thank you.” When you give him a confused look, he clarifies. “It was enough, just to sit near you. Come home, when you’re ready. I love you.” You turn on your heel and flee; you spend the rest of that planning period sobbing on the floor behind your desk.

The ladies at lunch are quiet, deferential, respectful, not asking questions, but they know something is wrong. It’s Friday when Gina broaches the topic indirectly. “A few of us are going out tonight,” she says softly, touching your hand. “Gonna grab a few drinks, blow off some steam. You should come…if you want.”

You consider this. You’ve spent this week numb, in a fog, going through the motions. Honestly, a night out sounds miserable. But you probably do need the human interaction, you tell yourself. “Okay,” you say dully and Gina smiles, offering to pick you up. You shrug and she pats your hand, telling you to hang in there and she’ll be at your place at seven.

-||-

This bar is too loud, too crowded, too much. Maybe liquor will help. You accept the shot Gina hands you and knock it back. Jennifer is long since wasted and you feel a burning need to get on her level - she seems so happy and giddy and carefree, dancing with her arms above her head on the dance floor.

Gina’s sister, Rachel, senses your need and passes you her vodka cranberry with a soft smile before heading back to the bar to get you another shot.

You’re not sure how much you’ve had at this point, but the floor is rolling under you and your head feels fuzzy. “I’ll be right back,” you tell Gina, heading for the bathroom, only stumbling a little. It’s only when you’re inside and you’ve shut the door that you realize where you are. “Oh god.” The room tilts. Your vision spins.

_“I need you now. I can’t wait that long.” He groans again and kicks the door shut, locks it, and kisses you deeply. You lean forward and unbutton his pants while he pulls your dress up to your waist and tugs your underwear down._

_“You’re sure?” He’s breathing hard, stroking himself, eyes heavy with lust._

_“Fuck me.”_

_He lifts you up onto the sink and you spread your legs. He groans and runs his hand over you, gathering your wetness to slick over his length before sliding into you. You both cry out at the sensation and he starts rocking against you. “Harder,” you insist, twisting your legs together behind him and pulling him into you._

_He’s got a hand on the mirror behind your head and the other is gripping your thigh hard; you’re pretty sure he’s going to leave bruises but you don’t even care. This is the roughest he’s ever been with you, and you love it._

_“Get down, turn over.” He rasps, and you slip off of the edge of the sink and lean over, both hands against the mirror. You shriek in pleasure when he thrusts back into you, the hand on your thigh tightening while his other moves to rub your clit roughly. “God, honey, look at us,” he groans, moving his hand from your thigh to your hair and lifting your head to watch you both in the mirror. “Look at how sexy you are, begging for it, begging for me.”_

_You whimper, spreading your legs wider and and sinking down onto him further, resting one forearm on the sink while the other braced yourself against the mirror. “Feels so fucking good, Brendon, feels so good,” you gasp, and he nods, bending over to bite your neck._

_“So fucking sexy, hearing you tell that guy to fuck off; you know you’re mine,” his words send shivers through you and you moan, nodding._

_“Yours, fuck, Brendon, I’m yours,”_  and you come out of the memory, breathing hard, hand on the mirror, dizzy. “Still yours,” you whisper aloud into the silence.

There’s a knock at the door. “Y/n,” Gina calls, “you okay?” You yell back that you’re fine, you’ll be out in just a minute, and she’s standing there with another shot in her hand when you open the door. “Drink up,” she tells you.

“I don’t know if I should-“ but you’re already bringing it to your lips and it’s no use; you happily take the shot.

-||-

Being drunk is awesome. Who figured out how to get drunk first? Being drunk is awesome. You’re not sure how much you’ve had, but you and Jennifer have been dancing for a solid hour and you’re still drunk.

Jennifer is unsteady on her feet so her dancing is now mostly a shuffle and waving arms; you, on the other hand, are feeling abundantly more confident and have been dancing, truly, like no one is watching.

It isn’t until you fall down and start laughing that Gina and Rachel come to retrieve you. “Alright,” Gina says with a sigh, getting you on your feet. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

You’re still laughing and you look at her. “I want to go home.” Rachel and Gina exchange a look, trying to figure out who is more sober and you watch them. “Just call Brendon,” you tell them and Gina gives you a surprised look.

“Are you sure?” Her voice is wary and you laugh.

“Of course I’m sure. He’s my husband, he’ll come get me.”

“He’s your what?” Gina asks, stunned. You giggle and clap a hand over your mouth.

“Oops,” you say, muffled, and shrug.

“We will discuss this later,” Gina tells you and you laugh, nodding. “Give me your phone.” You hand it over willingly and unlock it for her too. She clicks the phone icon and looks at you. “You have 61 missed calls from your husband since Sunday. You want me to call him?” You nod, unfazed. “Okay…” Gina says with an air of uncertainty. “It’s ringing.” A pause when he picks up. “No - it’s Gina. Yeah, she’s fine. Well, she’s blackout drunk, but she’s safe. Yeah, she wants to go home. I don’t know, it’s what she said. Yes. She said ‘I want to go home. Just call Brendon.’ I don’t know.” Another long pause. “I don’t know. No, she seems okay. I mean…she’s drunk. She’s definitely drunk,” and you’re nodding seriously. “She’s nodding,” Gina tells Brendon. “But I think she’s serious. Yeah, she’s still nodding. Just-just come get her. Uh huh. Okay. Yep. Yep. Okay.” Gina hangs up and looks at you. “He’ll be here as soon as possible.”

-||-

“Y/n,” Brendon calls, and your head snaps up gleefully. “Baby,” he says, coming close. “Oh god.” He’s hugging you so tightly and you hug him back, breathing in his scent.

“Hi. Take me home,” you chirp and he pulls back to look at you. “Please,” you add in drunken exasperation, thinking his hesitation has to do with your manners.

“Okay,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “Okay.”

-||-

You’re chattering endlessly the entire ride home and he just keeps looking over at you, smiling radiantly, holding your hand, rubbing his thumb over your hand, leaning over to kiss you at red lights, and you love how affectionate he’s being.

When he pulls into the driveway and rushes around to open your door, you fling yourself into his arms, and he kisses you urgently. “I love you so much,” he murmurs, and you whisper it back, running your hands through his hair.

“I’m so sleepy,” you tell him in a break between embraces. He chuckles and scoops you up and carries you inside and up the stairs, pausing to kiss you before remembering his mission. He gets you to bed and you pull him down beside you. “I’m sorry I’m so tired,” you say softly, eyes already slipping shut.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes as you curl into him. “We have time, we have all the time in the world. All that matters is you’re home. You’re home now. Sleep, baby.”

You’re unconscious in his arms moments later.

-||-

The smell hits you as you wake up. “Fuck,” you groan, holding your head with your eyes still shut. “I must have left a candle burning.” The smell of sweet vanilla is wafting upstairs and - “what the fuck.”

Your eyes open and you inhale sharply. How are you here? Why are you here?

Brendon comes into the bedroom, plate of pancakes in hand. “Baby,” he says with a smile. “You’re awake.”

“What the fuck.”

“Huh?” He looks at you, confused. “Oh- do you want waffles instead?” He smiles. “I can go make waffles. Whatever you want.”

“What the fuck am I doing here?”

He falters. “You - Gina called last night. You were drunk. You wanted to come home. You told her to call me.”

“No,” you shake your head urgently. “I wouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did,” Brendon argues, voice panicking. “Y/n, honey, you wanted to come home. I brought you home. You came back. You came home.”

“No.” 


	32. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and dirty talk and oral and sex and feelings.
> 
> Word count: 3.8k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

“No.”

You blink at him. “Sorry, what?”

“No,” he repeats calmly, his arms crossed as he blocks the door. “No, I am not taking you back to your apartment. No. No, I am not letting you run away from this. No. No, I am not going to give up that easily. There is a reason you had Gina call me when you were blackout drunk. You know in your heart you need to be here with me and we need to talk this out.” You open your mouth to protest and he cuts you off. “I know you think you’re not ready to talk, but you’re here and I’m not letting the opportunity go.” Brendon looks deep into your eyes, and you see something there tells you how serious he is. You return to your bed, frustrated. He takes a seat on the floor of your bedroom, reclining casually against your bedroom door, like he’s not blocking the exit. He raises his eyebrows expectantly and you wipe furiously at your eyes. “Baby,” he says, softening. “Do you remember what you said to me the morning after we got married? Sitting by the pool? I asked if you had any regrets, and you said-“

You cut him off, voice thick with tears. “I said, ‘Never. I will never regret last night. I meant every word I said, and I mean this too-“ and your voice catches. You swallow and take a shaky breath before continuing. “I love you more. Not more than you love me, but more than any fears, any doubts, any challenges, any bad days. I love you more than anything that could take me away from you. I love you and all that you are more, and I’ll always choose you.’ And you replied-“

It’s his turn to interrupt you. “Always. I said ‘Always.’ I meant it then and I mean it now. We love each other more, always. That’s what we promised. I’m holding you to it. Now let’s talk.”

“Okay,” you sniffle, realizing he’s right, realizing how much you miss him, hugging a pillow to your chest. “Okay.”

He nods and gazes at you steadily. “I’ll go first. I’m not sorry I said the things I said-“ before he can keep going, you make an audible noise of hurt shock and your eyes are blazing. “Let me finish,” Brendon says calmly, still watching you. “I am sorry I said them, but I’m more sorry I ever thought them in the first place. The night we got married, I vowed to love you and respect you and honor you. I vowed I would not do those things with some idea of you in mind, but who you truly are. And in thinking and voicing those things, I broke my vow to you. I cannot apologize enough. You are not careless or selfish or thoughtless. You’re not wrapped up in your own problems; you work tirelessly to make others’ lives better. You are allowed to make mistakes. You are so kind and good and gracious and I was completely wrong in not just saying those things to you, but in ever thinking them. I was stressed and angry and I lashed out at you and that is no excuse for my behavior - it was simply wrong. I feel physically sick when I think of how I walked away and left you there on that bus. Y/n, baby, I am so sorry for disrespecting you with my words and actions. You’re my wife, and you deserve better.” He looks at his hands, which are trembling, and then back at you. “And I do love you so much. It kills me that I hurt you, made you feel anything less than deeply loved and totally adored, and broke my vows to you.”

You nod slowly. “Trust, understanding, respect, and steadfast love.” Your voice is a soft whisper and Brendon looks at you, understanding dawning slowly in his eyes. “I vowed to give you trust, understanding, respect, and steadfast love that night. I denied you all of those when I left.” You look at him with tears still rolling. “That wasn’t my intention. I was hurt, scared, angry…all of them. But that doesn’t excuse my behavior and regardless of my intentions, I did deny you trust, understanding, respect, and steadfast love and I did break my vow to you as my husband.” You take a shaky breath and use your sheets to dab at your face. “And I’m so sorry.” A fresh hot wave of tears hit you. “I’m so so sorry.” You’re bent double over the pillow, the dam holding back your tears long gone. He’s leaning forward now, face betraying his conflicted anguish, clearly wanting to comfort you but unsure of whether you want him or not, and you reach for him. “Please,” you choke, “please come here and hold me.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s on his feet, crossing the room in broad strides, and launching himself onto the bed and taking you in his arms. “Oh honey,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his chest. “It’s okay, Y/n. It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re home. You came home. You came back to me and I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay.” You cling to him, whimpering his name. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” You’re both crying, clutching each other.

“I’m not either. Not anymore, not ever again,” you manage, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

“Ssssh,” Brendon soothes, a sob catching in his throat, stroking over your back. “We both messed up. We both recognize it. We both are deeply sorry. We both have forgiven the other. True?”

“True.” You nod eagerly, tipping your head up to kiss his jawline.

“So now we move forward,” Brendon tells you, holding you tight. “Only forward. We’re only stronger from this, my darling.” He looks down at your hand. “You’re still wearing your ring,” he says, and you’re surprised by his surprise.

“Of course I am. No matter how angry or sad or hurt I was, I was and am your wife. I had no intention of ever truly leaving you.” You look up at him with wide eyes, tears still rolling slowly. “I’m yours.” His lips crush over yours and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. You press closer to him and let your lips part, clutching his back when his tongue finds yours. You’re both breathing hard when he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, lips brushing gently over yours still.

“And likewise,” Brendon murmurs, running his hand over your hair, “I’m yours.”

-||-

“Say it,” he murmurs against your breast. “Say it, baby.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, clutching at his head. “Yours. Fuck, Brendon,” and he suckles at your nipple a little harder while he teases the other with his hand. His free hand is stroking over your stomach and steadily moving lower.

“You’re mine,” he agrees in a low voice. “I’m the only one who gets you like this.”

“Yes,” you moan, squirming under his touch. “Please, please touch me.” His hand moves lower still, until he’s just cupping your heat. You try to press down against his hand but he sucks hard at your breast, making you freeze in your pleasure. “Please,” you whisper, and at your plea, he gently rubs two fingers against you in soft circles. “In,” you insist, guiding his wrist. You’re tight, tighter than normal, and you both let out choked moans.

“Baby,” Brendon groans, thrusting his fingers into you gently and curling them back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“You haven’t fucked me since last Tuesday,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider and rolling down against his hand.

“That should be a fucking crime,” Brendon murmurs. “Ha. It is a fucking crime. It’s literally a crime in the category of fucking.” You tug at his hair and his eyes come back to yours, serious again. “But it is a crime. A woman like you deserves to be fucked well and fucked often.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is soft. “You gonna be the one to do it?” And the look burning in his eyes is all the answer you need. Always.

His fingers are rocking and curling and spreading and his thumb moves in gentle circles over your clit and your hips are bucking insistently as you gasp and writhe and plead. “Missed you so much,” he groans, removing his hand, sliding down the bed, and grabbing your thighs. You whine at the loss of contact and he looks up at you, eyes heavy. “I missed you, baby. Can I have you?”

“I’m yours. Always.”

“Fucking right, you are,” he moans before licking you gently. “God, I missed this.” He takes another tentative lick and you sigh, grabbing the back of his head. “You just- god, you taste-“ and he stops talking, groaning as he pushes closer, tongue going deep while his thumb moves back to your clit.

“Brendon,” you gasp, one hand flying to your hair as your back arches. “Oh fuck.” He nods against you slightly, his free hand massaging your hip gently before taking your hand in his. “Baby, feels so good.” His mouth opens wider and he lets his tongue just roll over you in a gentle, stroking motion. “Oh fuck,” you repeat, slinging a leg across his shoulders, bent at the knee. “God, lick-“ and his tongue is already moving with purpose up to your clit, flying over it rapidly while his fingers move back into you, twisting and curling and rubbing. “Love you,” you murmur, “love you so much oh my god, Brendon, I’m gonna-“ The tip of his tongue moves in delicate circles over your clit as his fingers go deep and curl. It’s a wordless squeal, and you drop his hand to clutch at his head, grinding back against his mouth. He’s moaning and making the sexiest noises you’ve ever heard and you’re shaking all over. He places his hand flat on your stomach and presses slightly to hold you in place and the heat of his hand and the pressure sets you off all over again. “Brendon,” you gasp, your eyes sliding shut. “It’s - you’re - oh god fuck yes.”

He keeps licking and sucking at you gently until your hips still. He pulls back and looks up at you longingly. “Missed that,” he murmurs, stroking small circles on your inner thigh as he licks his lips. “Missed you.”

“God,” you whimper, tugging his hair gently. “Come up here.” He crawls up over you eagerly, and you moan when you feel his erection press against you. “Kiss me,” you beg, and he dips his mouth down to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You kiss him fervently, practically sucking on his tongue at one point and he grunts when your hand curls around his dick and presses the tip to your entrance. “Please.” You’re panting and writhing and wriggling, trying to get him inside you. “I need your cock.”

“Like I’d ever deny you,” Brendon murmurs, cupping your face gently as he rolls his hips forward. You both inhale sharply at the sensation; you’re so tight and hot around him and he’s so hard and thick in you. “Fuck,” he groans, “you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

You claw at his back in ecstasy and he hisses in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Sorry,” you whisper and he kisses you fiercely.

“Don’t apologize. Fucking love your nail marks down my back. Claw me, scratch me, bite me, pull my hair, anything - you know I fucking love it,” he murmurs against your lips. “Love knowing I drive you crazy.”

“Oh god,” you whimper, spreading your hands across his back. “You do make me fucking crazy. Just wanna come on your cock, over and over again, fuck, it’s so good.” He bites at your neck lightly and he thrusts into you harder, hitching your leg up higher on his hip. “Fuck me,” you groan, “that feels so good. You’re filling me up with your cock, god, want you to fill me up with your cum too, please Brendon.”

“I’ll come,” he promises, kissing over your lips and jawline and neck. “I’ll come for you, baby.” He’s taking you hard and slow, and you’re both totally enraptured in the other, like neither of you can believe the other is really there. You can’t stop touching him; his face, his back, his chest, sliding your fingers down to make a V around your entrance so you can feel him fucking you, hard and slick. His hands keep roaming too, from caressing your face to rubbing your nipples to clutching your waist and holding you in place as he tortures you both with his slow, tender thrusts. “My sweet girl, I missed you,” he whispers into your neck, kissing the spot behind your ear that makes you seize up.

“Missed you,” you gasp, “so sorry I left, fuck, Bren, I’m so-“ and he kisses you fiercely.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he tells you, eyes on yours as his hips move slower. “You have nothing to apologize for, babygirl. We’re fine. We’re okay. You’re home now.”

“I’m home,” you agree, back arching when his fingers press against your clit. “Oh god, so glad to be home,” you moan as you feel yourself come.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans as he thrusts a little harder. “That’s it. Just let g-oh fuck,” he grunts, hips rocking ever-so-slightly faster. “Coming, coming, coming,” he chants in your ear. “My sweet girl, I’m coming for you.”

-||-

You’re sprawled in the bed, naked and asleep and he’s on top of you, his hand between your legs and his mouth closed over your breast, his breathing slow and even in his own slumber. He was the first to fall asleep, fatigue evident in his eyes as you played with his hair, and when you told him to sleep, he clung to you and pressed close, mouth and tongue searching out your nipple and hand lingering. “Gonna sleep like this,” he mumbled, kissing all over your breasts, “and I’ll wake up the happiest man.” He suckled tenderly at your nipple and his dark eyes met yours. “I love you.” You were both asleep moments later.

You stir now, hands in his hair still, and he groans, rolling onto his back, still asleep. You yawn and stretch before slipping out of bed and start searching for one of your silk robes. You find one in your bedside table drawer and slip into it, padding downstairs quietly.

You’re downstairs grabbing a bottle of water when you hear his footsteps on the stairs. “Woke up and you were gone,” he says in a scratchy voice as he comes into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. He eyes you, leaning against the fridge, water bottle in hand, silk robe tied loosely so the curve of your breasts is exposed. “Damn,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “You look - damn.” You smile at him and take another sip of water before holding it out to him. “You know that’s not what I want,” he tells you as he steps toward you. His hand presses to the small of your back when his arm encircles your waist as the other cups the back of your head and he crushes his mouth over yours. The water bottle slips from your hand and spills over your feet and he nips at your lower lip. “Leave it.” He sounds hoarse and you moan when he tugs you closer. “Up,” he commands, and you obey, letting him lift you. You wrap your legs around his waist and he moves the hand from the small of your back to shove the waistband of his pants down. You moan happily when you feel the hot pressure of his cock brushing against you and you kiss him feverishly. His tongue is in your mouth and he presses you back against the fridge and rocks into you roughly. You moan into his mouth and Brendon grins, sucking on your lower lip. “Wasn’t done with you earlier,” he groans, one hand resting above your head on the fridge as his mouth moves over yours. The words are mumbled against your lips and you whimper, writhing between him and the cool metal surface. He’s got an arm under your thighs and your legs are wrapped tightly around his waist as he thrusts into you hard. “Fucking missed you.”

“Oh god,” you whine, tangling your hands in his hair. “Brendon, baby,” you gasp, your head flung back against the fridge. “Take me upstairs.”

“But I’m having such a good time right here,” he counters with a smile. He kisses your neck and you roll your head to the side, letting him kiss and nip gently. “Why would I stop and take you upstairs?”

“Because,” you tell him, “if you get me upstairs, I’m gonna ride you til we both can’t come anymore.”

“Fuck,” Brendon groans, hips pistoning faster. “Say it again,” he demands, dropping your legs. He pulls out of you roughly and tugs you forward to the kitchen island, moving behind you and rocking into you again. Your hands are flat on the island and you cry out happily when his hips slam against your ass. “Say it again.”

“I wanna ride you til we both can’t come anymore,” you moan, going up on tiptoe to rock back and take him deeper. “Oh fuck,” you gasp when he tangles a hand in your hair and tugs. “That’s so fucking good,” you whimper, still bucking against him.

“Want you in my lap, fucking me,” he grunts, bending over you, hips still snapping forward repeatedly, and sucking on your shoulder blade. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, tugging your own hair. “Yeah, please.” He kisses your shoulder blade and pulls you both upright and you squeal when he pulls out of you and scoops you up into his arms. “God, your cock,” you whisper in his ear, tongue flicking out over his earlobe. “Your cock is so slick with me, can’t wait to sink back onto your hard cock and ride you.”

“That’s my girl,” he groans, and when he finally gets you into bed and crawls in after you, you throw a pillow at him. He catches it and laughs, tucking it behind his back so he can lean back against the headboard. “Come here,” he beckons and you straddle him, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the headboard behind him as you roll down onto him. “Fucking hell, Y/n,” he grunts, “still so fucking tight, Jesus.”

“Maybe,” you say breathlessly, “maybe we should go ten days without sex again. Or push it to twenty, see how tight I am for you then.” He looks at you in horror and he starts laughing when he sees you biting your lip to keep yourself from giggling out loud. “Fuck that,” you tell him, squeezing your knees around his hips as you lift yourself up gracefully and then take him again. “Would miss your cock too much.”

“You do love it,” Brendon says in a tight voice, watching you ride him. “And god, do I love the way you love it.” He grabs your head and pulls you close so your lips slide against his. “You look so hot like this,” he tells you, his breath warm on your skin. “So fucking hot, sitting in my lap, riding me. Love you so much.” You nod and kiss him urgently, twining both arms around his neck and moaning into his mouth as you pick up the pace. You’re both clutching the other; his fingers are digging into your hips as you lift and roll and drop and swivel.

“Love you. Wanna feel you come in me like this.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, fingers digging in more. “I’m right there.” You lean toward and lick his neck before sucking his earlobe into your mouth and rolling it between your teeth. “Yeah, baby, make me come,” he groans, tugging your hair. “I’m gonna - Jesus, you’re so fucking tight. Baby- fucking hell - oh my god, fuck-“ and his hips are bucking under you and he’s coming hot and hard and fast and his head falls back against the headboard. “Fucking perfect,” he’s moaning, “you’re fucking perfect your pussy Jesus Christ oh god take it baby fuck me.” You sink your teeth into his neck and he inhales sharply, hips moving roughly still. “My god,” he grunts and his eyes roll back as you squeeze around him.

Seeing him like this, watching him fall apart and lose control, it sets you off and you squeal wordlessly as your orgasm rips through you. He flings an arm around your waist and holds you down when you start writhing against him. “Brendon,” you whimper when you can’t move anymore, “Brendon, I love you.”

“I love you,” he returns, breathing hard. “So fucking much.” He pauses to catch his breath. “My god.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slipping out of his lap and collapsing, curling into the fetal position against his legs. “Just…yeah. I know I said I’d ride you til neither of us could take anymore but…I think we might be there already.”

“I don’t,” he counters with a smile. “You’ve got five minutes before I expect you back in my lap and on my cock.” He pauses, stroking your hair as you look up at him adoringly. “Unless you’re tapped out. I can be done if you can’t take anymore.”

You shake your head, snuggling in close. “Not tapped out. Not yet. Just need,” and you yawn, “a little catnap.”

He chuckles and scratches your head, grinning when you purr a little, eyes fluttering shut. “Take your nap, babygirl. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Yeah,” you agree sleepily, smiling when he slips down beside you and drags the blanket over both of you. “Hey.” He looks at you and you kiss him softly. “I love you more.”

He kisses your forehead and you press closer, smiling when he wraps his arms around you. “I love you more too,” he tells you softly. “Always.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and dirty talk and oral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

You’re humming to yourself as you pass back test papers and the kids exchange glances. You notice but assume, reasonably, that they’re trying to communicate silently about their grades.

“He must have fucked her good; she’s in a better mood.”

“Right? It’s amazing what a good dick can do to a bitch.”

You freeze and pivot on your heel. Brian and Eric go pale and Jessica lets out a squeal of panic. “What did you just say?” Your voice is cold and level and you think Jessica might faint. Neither comment was hers of course; this was an exchange solely between Brian and Eric but she seems the most frightened. That’s probably justified, as far as the boys are concerned, all things considered. “Perhaps I was not clear. What. Did. You. Just. Say?” You’re quieter now and Eric opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Brian is a deep flushed red and you wait.

“I- we-“ Eric finally manages before he falls silent and you close your eyes for a moment. When you open them, both boys are frozen, petrified.

“Get out.” They don’t move. “Was I unclear? Get out of my room.” They stand and head for the door and you shake your head. “Oh no, take your things. You will not be back in my room today.”

“Are we going to the main office or Mr. Franklin’s office?” It’s a reasonable question; if you don’t have time to send the referral to the main office, they’ll go to Mr. Franklin’s office, otherwise known as the holding room. They aren’t looking at you.

“Neither.” You wait until they look up at you in confusion. “You’re going to Mr. Urie’s.” And just when you thought they couldn’t get paler… “And you’re going to tell him what you just said and explain to him why you thought it was an appropriate thing to say. And after that, I don’t know what will happen, because I’m leaving it up to him. You want to talk about his fiancée?” You might be crossing a line but you’re so angry that you don’t really care. You wave your left hand at them and you think they might throw up. Anyone who has either you or Brendon as a teacher knows how besotted he is with you; now that you’ve come home, and not that the students know this but, he’s more protective and devoted than ever. He’s going to lose his fucking mind when he hears this. “Fine. Talk about me. But there are consequences and you get to deal with him now. Good luck, gentlemen. Good luck.” You let out a short peal of laughter as you usher them out of the room and shut the door behind them.

-||-

Brendon’s eyes narrow in confusion. “Gentlemen.” He pauses, the open door in his hand. “How can I help you?”

Brian and Eric exchange glances and Eric speaks. “Ms. Milton sent us.” Brendon’s eyes change instinctively at the mention of your name, but he’s even more alert now. He told you early in your time at the school to send kids who were pissing you off to him so both parties could cool down and that moment has arrived. Brendon ushers them in and they linger by his office door. “We’re…uh…we’re supposed to tell you what we said to her.” Eric mumbles. Brian gives him an elbow and Eric shoots him a dirty look. “You know she’s going to tell him anyway and then we’ll only get in trouble for not following her instructions.”

“Gentlemen.” Brendon is growing impatient. His class is growing restless. There’s a prickling sensation going up the back of his neck; these kids have done something to you, he can tell. “Why are you here?”

Eric and Brian look at each other again and, resignation in their eyes, repeat in a low voice the exchange that got them sent to Brendon in the first place.

Brendon reels. He must have blacked out. Surely he misheard. No fucking way these kids actually said that to you. About you. Whichever. “You said what?” They have the decency to look humiliated and Brian shakes his head anxiously. “Oh no,” Brendon snaps, “you said it once and were clearly quite pleased with yourselves, so you can say it again. I want to be absolutely sure of what I’m hearing, of what you said to that woman.” He’s furious. The class behind him is mute. They didn’t hear what Eric and Brian said, but they must be able to tell from Brendon’s words and posture that it’s serious. “What did you say?” They repeat it again, even more quietly this time, and Brendon has to count backwards from ten with his eyes shut before he can even think about discipline. He’s so glad you sent them to him; so glad he gets to be the one to drop the hammer. Right now though, he can’t even look at them. “I can’t even begin to express how upset I am,” he tells them. “Truly. I am just stunned and disappointed. Not just as a teacher hearing this from a student, but as a man, hell, as a person. The amount of disrespect you showed Ms. Milton -I- my god, I cannot even look at you. I am so disappointed.” His voice doesn’t betray his emotions, but his eyes do. He’s furious. He’s livid. His eyes aren’t his own; they’re sharp and narrow and more suited to a wolf, teeth bared and body tense, prepared to defend its mate. He realizes in this moment he would kill for you. Not these two morons, but in general. “You need to go sit in the corner and so help me god, do not let me see you until the end of class when I speak to you again.”

-||-

“So what do you feel is an appropriate punishment?” Brendon is leaning against his desk in the last five minutes of class and the boys cower on the couch opposite. His eyes haven’t changed, despite his casual body language.

Eric is quick to speak. “A letter of apology to you both.”

Brendon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Brian’s turn. “And a letter of apology to the class. We disrupted class and took Ms. Milton’s time away from others and it was rude.”

Brendon nods. That’s surprisingly perceptive of them. “And?”

“And probably ISS.”

Brendon nods. “I’d agree with all of those. Two letters each, two days of ISS each. And that’s just from me. Administration might have more in store. Now,” and he smiles, “get out of my room. Mr. Franklin will be expecting you by the time you arrive.”

-||-

The late bell for second block is just ending and you’re about to pull your door shut, but your hand freezes in the air. He’s headed down the hall towards you. You step back into the hall and he steps closer, closing the door behind you. “Hi,” you whisper, smiling.

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, holding out his arms. You step into them and he wraps you tightly in them. “The flowers I ordered for today haven’t arrived yet and I thought about waiting for them so I could deliver them myself, but I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“But your stu-“

“They’ll be fine. And I’m not staying long. But seriously, I couldn’t go another ninety minutes without seeing you, holding you. Not after that stunt those guys pulled.” You make a face. “I can’t tell you how angry I was. I’m still pissed, honestly. You’re just -“ his voice breaks off and he takes a deep breath. “Thank you for letting me handle them.” His voice is soft now and you step back to look at him and he takes your hand and rubs his thumb over the back of it. “Seriously. I can’t believe they said that.”

“I’m not surprised, honestly. Teenage boys can be awful.”

Brendon frowns and you shrug, going up on your tiptoes to give him a simple, chaste kiss. He smiles and you see the tension leave his shoulders. “Are you in a better mood though? Since we-?” He lets the question hang in the air and he raises his eyebrows suggestively. You nod and he grins. “So they were right. Inappropriate-“ he says quickly, holding up his hands when he sees your face, “-but right.”

“Technically,” you admit grudgingly and his grin widens. “But we will never repeat that.”

”Never,” Brendon swears, kissing your forehead. “Hey,” he says after a moment. “I’m gonna let you go teach your class, you know, do your job, but come see me during planning?”

“Okay.” You squeeze his hand and smile up at him. “I’ll see you later. I love you more.”

He breaks out into a smile. “I love you more too.”

-||-

“Homecoming is this Friday,” Brendon tells you, and you nod, well aware. Your kids have been shirking their homework in favor of floats. “And were chaperoning the dance Saturday.”

“Agh.” You let out a short groan. “I remember that now.” You catch the look on his face and speak quickly. “I’m excited, don’t get me wrong. But there’s just so much work to do. The end of November is always a rough month, grading-wise.”

“You’ll still come to the game though, right?” Brendon looks worried and you nod.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it. I know the band does a different performance for homecoming.”

“Yeah,” Brendon rolls his eyes. “Fucking Can You Feel The Love Tonight.” He grimaces. “But the crowd loves it, so…”

“And you know how to please.” You cross the space between you to kiss him softly. He grins and curves a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place and you sigh happily when his tongue finds yours. You both linger in the embrace, slowly teasing the other and it’s not until his hand starts creeping up your thigh and under your skirt that you pull back, a little breathless. “Yeah, Brendon, you know how to please, fuck, baby…” you’re captivated by him, the swell of his lower lip and the way he bites it in concentration as his fingers work their way higher, tracing over the lace he finds there.

“Yeah I do, but you’re the only one I really care about pleasing,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours before moving swiftly to your earlobe and down your neck, pressing firmly. “Gonna let me?”

“Shouldn’t,” you whisper, grinning. “Shouldn’t, because I’ll get worked up and distracted and won’t be able to focus and then I’ll do a bad job in class.”

He pouts and pulls his hand out. “You’ve never said no.”

You take a teasing tone. “I’m trying this new thing called being responsible. I hate it so far.” You grin and kiss him firmly. “But it kinda makes everything sexier, right? Saying no, delaying until we’re home? Keeping us both on edge, wanting…”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Babygirl, I’m always on edge, wanting you.” You whimper at the name and he grins, tapping your nose. “But you want to say no and delay. So we’re gonna delay. And I bet you’ll be begging for it by the time we get home.” He eyes you longingly. “I want you to be begging for it.”

-||-

His lips ghost over your shoulder. “Call in sick tomorrow.” You’re tangled up in each other, arms and legs a mess in the sheets that are clinging to you. You’re drowsy; four orgasms tends to do that to you. You’re just starting to fall asleep when his lips first touched your skin, and a thrill went through you; you thought he wanted to go for a fifth. “Seriously. Call in sick tomorrow.”

“Don’t you mean today?” You turn in his arms and he nips at you playfully when you point at the alarm clock, glowing with a time just past midnight.

“Technicality.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes with one hand. God, he’s gorgeous.

“Whatever. Call in sick? Brendon…” you sound unsure and he runs his hand over your hip. “It does sound nice.”

“‘Course it does.” He’s nuzzling your shoulder again before looking at you with his “let me fuck you” eyes. Fuck, they’re working. “Lazy morning sex, breakfast in bed, more sex, binge watching movies and Chinese food for lunch, afternoon sex followed by a long, steamy shower,” his mouth moves up quickly to linger by your ear. “During which I will almost definitely eat you out again and get you coming on my face,” and his lips are moving down your neck as his fingers tease down into the curve of your hip bone. “Snuggling on the couch, falling asleep all tangled up in each other, mouths and hands all over each other, and really,” and his fingers slip against you, “really,” and he’s stroking you so slowly and gently, “really,” and then his fingers are in you, curving and spreading, “drawn out, slow,” and his mouth moves back up your neck to your ear, “passionate,” and his tongue traces the shell of your ear, “sex.” His hand moves against you gently, the palm of his hand massaging your clit as his fingers work. You laugh and he pulls back, looking only slightly offended. “Excuse me. Why are you laughing?”

You try to stifle your laugh. “I didn’t expect the word ‘sex,’ that’s all.”

Brendon chuckles now too, his fingers stilling. You whimper and roll against his palm, and he kisses your forehead. “Sorry, baby.” His fingers start moving again. “As for my word choice, ‘fucking’ felt wrong. I don’t intend to fuck you.”

“Ooooh,” you say playfully, batting your eyelashes at him. “We gonna make loooooove instead?”

“Maybe,” Brendon murmurs, his free hand caressing your face. “Maybe we are. Maybe I’m going to make love to my gorgeous wife.” He cradles your head in his hand and kisses you firmly, tongue finding yours and fingers slowing but curling exactly how you need. You moan against his lips and tangle your hands in his hair, arching and rolling against him. “But,” and he pulls back to look at you longingly. “That can only happen if we call in sick.” You hesitate and consider. He can see you weakening. “Do it. Call in sick. Just do it.” He grins and kisses you again. “You know you wanna.”

“Okay, fine,” you say with a laugh, burying your face in his chest. “But I expect really good breakfast in bed. French toast.”

“You can have French toast for breakfast.”

You must look confused. “What are you going to have for breakfast then?”

“I’m gonna eat your pussy for breakfast.” His tone is level, neutral almost, and you can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. “Til you’re screaming my name.”

“You make a very compelling offer, Mr. Urie,” you murmur, stretching under him. “Good thing I have emergency sub plans written.”

-||-

“One more,” Brendon coaxes, kissing your inner thigh as his fingers piston in and out of you. “One more for me, baby.” You’re reclining on the couch, your knees are bent and he’s stretched out between your legs, his lips slick and swollen.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, biting your lip. “I’m gonna fucking-“

“Here’s a challenge,” he says with a grin. “You’re not allowed to use the word ‘fuck’ for the rest of the day.”

“But-“ you begin to protest, and he shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “Fine,” you say softly, both hands gripping his head. “Just eat me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, licking at you eagerly. “My good girl can be bossy when she really wants it, huh?”

“I just don’t like being teased like this,” you tell him and he chuckles, promising he’d never tease you too long.

“I love this too,” he reminds you. “Maybe more than you.” You must give him a face that reflects your doubt and he grins, running his tongue over you with a happy sigh. “I do. I love the smooth skin of your inner thighs, how you clench around my face, the way you get so fucking wet for me and you’re just…god, you’re just ready for me and you’re so willing and you just…” he stares up at you almost reverently. “You just spread your legs and you’re so good and so sweet and God, so responsive and the way you grab my hair and grind against my face and ride my tongue…if this was the only thing we could ever do in bed, it would be more than enough for me. I could, and do, get off when you come on my face.” And with that, he’s back between your legs, making the dirtiest sounds, gasping and moaning, as his tongue goes deep.

“I love you so much,” you gasp, your hips rolling and your hands tugging at his hair. “Don’t stop, God, Brendon, please don’t stop.” He groans and you hook your toe into the waistband of his sweatpants and push. He doesn’t stop licking and sucking but rocks his hips hard and using his free hand, the one that had been gripping your ass, he shoves his sweatpants down and kicks them off, grinding against the couch cushions and panting. He pulls back suddenly and breathes hard, staring at you. “Why’d you - what?” You blush, shifting and reaching for the blanket on the back of the couch to cover yourself, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

“No, don’t,” he says softly, stopping you. “You’re- god. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever - and in this lighting-“ and you shift again, feeling the warm sun come in through the living room windows “ - god, you’re…fuck, babygirl, you’re just…you’re breathtaking,” he manages, eyes still wide. “Can I touch myself?” You nod and he groans happily, closing his fist around his erection and stroking roughly while his eyes take you all in. “I love you so much.” Hand still working, he rests his head on your lower stomach, breathing hard.

“I love you too,” you whisper, stroking his hair. “God, I love you too.” He’s kissing your stomach so gently, tenderly, as he moves back down to where you both want him most. “Brendon,” you sigh, and he kisses and licks at you, eyes on yours. “Make me come, baby.”

His eyes, damn, his eyes are wide and dark and locked on yours; his mouth is moving over you, licking and stroking with his tongue. You could die from the hot pressure of his tongue and lips; he’s moaning again as he moves up higher and his top lip rests on your pelvis as his tongue rolls frantically, greedily over your wetness. His moaning is lower now and he’s abandoned his hand to really grind into the couch, hips flexing.

“Brendon,” you tug at his hair. “Baby.” He pauses, confused, and you smile sleepily. “Don’t come on the couch. Not as easy to clean as the bedsheets.”

“Well,” he says with a quick smile, “I’d better stop then. Want me to order lunch?”

You nod and he crawls up over you and you wiggle forward so he can stretch out between you and the back of the couch. You can feel the heavy, hot weight of his erection against you and you whimper, wiggling back against him. He’s almost in you; the tip of his cock is brushing against you. “Sesame chicken please,” you tell him. He kisses your neck and dials the phone.

As soon as he starts talking, you snake a hand back and in between your bodies so you can grasp his erection and hold him in place. “Oh fuck,” he gasps quietly when you brace yourself against the couch arm with one hand and sink down onto him. You stretch a leg out and rest it on top of him, so he can thrust and you can grind freely.

“So hard for me,” you sigh happily as you start to move your hips in small circles. “And leaking too; so sexy when I play with your cock and you’re already wet and slick, ready to come in me.” He’s trying to focus on the phone call but you’re definitely distracting him. “Gonna come in me, baby? Love when you bite my neck and your hips rock forward and you come in me. Feels so good, so hot, so possessive. Love having your cum in me for the rest of the day, reminding me how good you made me feel and how you’re gonna give it to me so good later again…damn, Brendon,” and you rock back against him, squeezing tightly. .

“Baby,” Brendon hisses, his free hand moving to your breasts. “I’m almost-“ and he takes a shuddering breath. “Yes ma’am, that’s everything. Yes.” He confirms the address and thanks her again before hanging up and dropping his phone. His lips attach to your neck and his hand closes over your hip. “Ah, fuck, now…” he groans, body stiffening and you feel him start to come. “Oh fuck,” he mutters, resting his head in the crook of your neck as he grabs your hip and pulls you closer as his hips buck rapidly behind you. “My sweet girl, my good girl.” He wraps an arm around your waist while the arm in between his body and the couch slips up and thumbs over your nipple at the exact moment his teeth sink into your neck. You don’t mean to, but you let out a piercing squeal as you come, and he moves his fingers from your breast to your mouth, and you suck greedily, moaning around his fingers as you both tremble with your orgasms. “That’s it babygirl, suck,” he says in a tight voice, cock still twitching deep in you. “That’s my good girl.”

You feel your climax subside and while you’re still faint from it, you let his fingers slip from your mouth with an exhausted whimper. “You came a lot,” you mumble, squeezing around his length again. “Feel so full.”

“You made me come a lot,” he corrects you with a yawn. “Jesus, I need…I don’t even know what I need.”

“Chinese food. We need Chinese food,” you tell him, raising your hips and letting his cock slip from you before you turn in his arms and slip down the length of his body. He grabs your hair and groans when you take him in your mouth and you pull off of his length with a smile. “Gotta clean you up.”

“Jesus Christ,” he moans, watching your head move as you take him deeper before you pull back to suckle at the tip, tongue teasing the slit. “I’ve got nothing else to give you, babygirl,” he tells you in a tight voice. “Trust me, I’d love to come in your mouth, but I am tapped out.”

You kiss the tip and smile up at him. “That’s okay. I just like sucking your dick.” You swallow him down again, whimpering in pleasure when he groans and your fingers slide in deep. “And,” you say with a gasp, “love fingering myself after you come in me.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Brendon groans, cupping your face. “You gorgeous thing.”

-||-

“Damn,” Brendon murmurs, holding you at arm’s length. “You look good.”

You blush and roll your eyes. It’s Friday night and it’s time for the homecoming game and you forgot how cold it gets at night, so Brendon slipped his band jacket onto your body with a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t.” He frowns at you and taps your nose. “Fine, I look good.”

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees, grinning. “You always look good in my clothes. You gonna be warm enough?” You nod and stick your hands in the pockets. “Okay.” He looks uncertain. “Let me know. I probably have blankets somewhere.” He checks his watch. “But we gotta go for march-on. Come on, baby.” He tucks you under his arm and you set off to meet the band where they’re warming up behind the home end zone.

The march-on goes smoothly, the fight song is great as usual, and you retreat to the stands to watch the game. Brendon keeps you under his arm, snuggled in against his body, his lips brushing against your temple often and his hand holding yours whenever the band isn’t playing.

When halftime comes, you both make your way back down to the field. They march on and form a heart. “Cute,” you tell him, and he groans under his breath. Marissa scales the drum major’s stand and brings them to attention, and they’re off.

He stands behind you, arms wrapped tight around your waist. “Can you feel the cock tonight?” He sings quietly in your ear. “The peace love making brings…” You elbow him, giggling, and he chuckles, hips rocking forward imperceptibly, just enough for you to feel the stirrings of his erection. “Am I gonna get lucky after the game?” He murmurs, kissing your cheek.

“As long as you don’t wanna hook up under the bleachers,” you say with a grin. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. 
> 
> Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and dirty talk, oral (both), mild cum play, rougher sex, mild choking.
> 
> Word count: 4.7k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loverontheleft.tumblr.com for dirty talk and requests <3

_Every moment after the football game ended was drawn out foreplay; he dragged you into his office and bent you over his desk and kissed you longingly, hands roaming as you arched under him, desperate for more. Finally, you broke apart and Brendon, breathing hard, reminded you both that he couldn’t - well, shouldn’t, fuck you on his desk. Not after a game, when a kid could reasonably have forgotten something and barge back into the band room to retrieve it. Reluctantly, you both stumbled out to his car and, after taking a break to make out fervently across the center console, rushed home. The car ride home was torture; his hand on your thigh possessively, your mouth on his neck, both of you whispering urgent promises to fully satisfy the other, to make the other feel so fucking good. He practically dragged you from the car and carried you to the door, pressing you against it to fumble with his keys and get you both inside. “The neighbors are going to talk about how we can’t keep it in our pants,” you told him breathlessly as he frantically tried to open the door, mouth all over you, and he laughed, telling you didn’t really care about anything other than getting you inside and naked._

Once inside, you grab his hair and crush your mouth to his, moaning into the embrace when his grip on your thighs tightens and you rub against him needily.

“Brendon. Take me to bed.” You’re breathless and he nuzzles your ear, tongue darting out to tease your earlobe and you whimper, clinging to him. “Baby, please.”

“You know I can’t say no to you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours and meeting your eyes. “God, I want you.” He kisses you again, lips urging yours apart and his tongue flicks out to caress yours while his hands spread over and squeeze your thighs, pulling you firmly against him. “Feel what you do to me? You feel me?” You moan your yes, spreading your legs wider against his grasp to feel more of his erection. He pushes you up against the hallway wall and you grind back against him, whimpering into his mouth, clawing at his back. “That’s it, baby, bite me, scratch me, claw me, rake your nails across my skin, show me you want it.”

“I want it,” you gasp, tossing your head back so he can suck the pressure point behind your ear. “I want it so bad. I want you. Why are we still down here? Why are we not in bed?”

“Because I’m stalling,” Brendon murmurs, nipping at your neck. “Because I’m so worked up that if I get you naked now, I’ll come on the spot. So I’m stalling. Trying to calm down.” You giggle and tug at his hair, still writhing against him. “Baby, that’s not gonna calm me down,” he points out.

“No?” You buck against him hard. “This isn’t helping?” You tangle your hand back in his hair and jerk his head back, sinking your teeth into his neck before sucking roughly. “How about this?” You murmur, breath hot on his skin. “Is this helping? Is this calming you down? Guessing by how your cock is throbbing against me, I’m gonna go with no. You wanna get me naked, on all fours, begging you to take-“

“If you’re not careful, Y/n,” Brendon warns in a tight voice, “I’m gonna fuck you right here on the floor. I’ll strip you down and get you on your knees, begging me -“

“For your dick? Bren, I’ll always beg for your dick, you just gotta tell me. You want me on my knees, moaning against you, mouthing over your cock, trying to get you out of your pants, fighting to get you in my mouth? God, I wanna lick and suck every inch of your hard dick and take you deep, grab your ass and make you fuck my mouth until I gag on your cock and you’re bent over double, clutching my head and gasping and begging me to let you come in my mouth. You want that, baby? You want me to suck you off down here in the living room and swallow your cum? Say the word, Bren.”

“Y/n, fuck,” he says helplessly, clutching you close. “Baby, I gotta- we gotta- get upstairs.” He flexes his hands against your thighs to tell you he’s gonna set you down and you drop your legs, yelping in pleasure when he smacks your ass. “Get upstairs, babygirl.”

-||-

“Oh fuck- oh God, Brendon - Jesus, please- fuck fuck fuck!” Your entire body goes stiff and you claw at his back, whimpering. “I- fuck - baby-“ you break off and his lips attack yours, moaning into your mouth as you tremble in his arms.

“Yes, baby, yes,” he groans, hips still rocking into you hard. You’re speechless and he kisses his way down from the corner of your mouth to your collarbone, tongue dragging across your skin as you shudder. “So sexy.”

You cling to his shoulders, eyes shut. “Brendon, my God,” you moan, chest heaving. “I- you’re so-“

“Yeah?” He pulls out of you suddenly and you whine, grasping between your legs for his erection desperately. “God, Y/n,” and his voice is hoarse with longing, “jerk me off. I wanna come on you. Wanna see me all over you.” You take a sharp breath as your hand curls around him and he bucks into your grip. “That’s a good girl; stroke my cock just a bit, rub your pussy to get your hand nice and slick if you need to.”

“Brendon,” you sigh, hand pumping insistently. “I want your cum all over me.” He grunts as he ducks his head down to lick at your nipples, teeth grazing slightly - just enough to make you gasp and stroke him faster. “More tongue,” you beg, and he nods, swirling his tongue around your breasts until both nipples are achingly hard and shining with his saliva. “Suck them,” you plead. “Suck.”

“Your pussy is dripping again, isn’t it?” Brendon’s voice is knowing and you nod as his lips close over your right nipple. He moans softly as he sucks, fingers teasing your skin. “My good girl is so desperate for cock right now. She’s gonna have to settle for my cock in her hand until I come on her. Gonna get my cum all over her,” Brendon promises in a low voice. “Then I’ll fill her pussy up and see if she can make me come in her.”

“Brendon.” Your voice is high and helpless and he thrusts into your fist at a fast pace, groaning when your fingers tighten. “I want your cum.” You slip your hand lower to tighten around the base of his cock, biting your lip when he gasps your name. “Come for me, baby.”

“Fuck,” he groans, hand grabbing yours as he comes. “Baby- I’m-“

“Yeah,” you sigh, stroking him through his climax, shivering in pleasure as his cum lands on your stomach and thighs. “Yeah, Brendon, just relax and come for me.” His hips falter in their rhythm and he is swearing under his breath, eyes clenched shut. “My sexy husband, coming all over me,” you murmur, running your free hand through his hair as he breathes hard, hand still tight around yours.

“Babygirl,” he sighs, going limp and curling into the mattress. “My god. You’re-“

“You’re delicious,” you say in a low voice and his head snaps up, eyes wide when he sees how you’re running two fingers through the mess he’s made on your stomach and licking them clean. “Love how you taste. Know you wanted to come all over me, but wish it had been on my tongue.” You take another swipe and suck greedily, moaning around the digits in your mouth as your eyes flutter shut.

“Baby,” he repeats, and you open your eyes to wink at him, going back for thirds. “You’re-“

“You’re surprised that I love your cum?” You ask, and he just stares at you. “Don’t be. You’re gonna fuck me so hard til you’re about to come and then I want you to pull out and shove your dick in my mouth so I can swallow everything. Love how you coat my tongue and throat, how sexy it makes me feel to swallow for you.”

“I love you,” he says helplessly, and you smile, murmuring it back to him.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” You take one last taste before bringing his mouth close. “You’re okay with me kissing you, right? We’ve made out after I’ve swallowed before, but this feels different…” You trail off and he nods, crushing his mouth to yours, moaning when you part your lips and his tongue and yours collide.

“Such a good girl,” Brendon murmurs after a moment, stroking your hair as you purr, rubbing your head against his hand. “My sweet girl. My good girl. How does my good girl want it? She’s so good; I’ll take her tight little pussy any way she wants it as a reward for being so good.”

“Hard and fast and rough,” you say quickly. “Love when you’re soft and slow with me, but I’m covered in your cum and I just want to be fucked hard. Grab my ass, pull my hair, bite me, choke me, make me come so hard I can’t breathe.”

“Baby,” Brendon groans, and you can see when he clambers to his hands and knees that he’s getting hard again. “Keep talking. Get my cock nice and hard for your pretty pussy.” You whimper and writhe in pleasure and he kisses your forehead. “My sweet girl, so dirty and naughty too.”

“I want your cock. I want you to fuck me til my body literally can’t take it and I clench around you and come hard, screaming your name.”

“Jesus,” Brendon whispers, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’ll do my best, babygirl. You just tell me if I’m not being rough enough, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moan, spreading your legs wider. “I’m being so good, spreading my legs for you, Brendon. Come give me your cock, come fuck me.” You pause. “Or do you want me on my hands and knees so you can fuck me hard from behind? Pull my hair, spank me, bend me over and take me.”

“No, baby,” Brendon murmurs, settling between your spread legs and gripping your waist. “I wanna see the look on your face when I make you come.” He hooks an arm under your knee and pushes up towards your chest, sliding into your heat with ease. “So fucking tight,” he groans, leaning over to kiss you roughly. “And hot and wet and slick and - fuck, baby,” Brendon pants, rocking against you slowly. “Your pussy is to die for. I’d fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Harder,” you insist, fisting his hair. “Go harder.” He chuckles and rests his other arm above your head before doubling his pace. “Harder,” you repeat, lifting your other leg and rocking back against him. “Fuck me harder.”

“Y/n,” Brendon moans, hips working at a merciless pace. “You insatiable little fr-“ the crash of the bed frame against the wall breaks his focus and you tug his hair insistently. “You want it harder, babygirl?”

“Yes,” you gasp, scratching at his back needily. “Yes, fuck me, make me scream.”

“Fucking love you,” Brendon mutters against your lips, the hand above your head gripping your hair and pulling. “Say my name.”

“Bren- oh fuck,” you yelp when he pulls again. “-don, fuck me, Brendon baby, fuck me.” He’s slamming his hips against yours and you’re shaking all over, writhing and begging for him to make you come. “Please, please, please,” You chant in time with the bed frame hitting the wall, your hips rocking up to meet his thrusts urgently. “Brendon-“

“If you can say anything other than my name,” Brendon grunts, “I’m not fucking you hard enough.” He nips at your mouth, sucking hard on your lower lip and you gasp, hands spreading across his back as he breathes hard, pace never faltering. “You better come for me,” he tells you, pulling your hair again. “You’d better fucking come.”

“Bren-“ you yelp and he grins, moving down to suck at your neck. “Baby - don’t leave -“

He pulls back and his eyes meet yours. You can read the warning there as his hand leaves your hair and grips your throat. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he warns. “If I want to mark you as mine, I’ll mark you as mine.” His fingers flex and your eyes go wide. “Is this okay?” His voice is soft now and he searches your eyes.

“Yes,” you manage, tongue darting out to trace your lips. “Yes.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he promises. “You shake your head and he chuckles. “My little freak. Love you.” He watches you carefully as he tightens his grip further. “Come.” He rocks into you hard, hips angled to hit your g-spot perfectly, and you whimper as he thrusts repeatedly, pushing you closer and closer and closer. “Come,” he repeats and his fingers squeeze. Your eyes roll back in your head and your lips part wordlessly as you come undone. Your back arches and you claw at his back, barely breathing. His hand slackens and you take a shuddering breath, still not able to speak. You’re rigid, silent, frozen, the only movement is in how your walls clench around him. “Baby?” Brendon says softly, concerned. You’re shaking now, hips twitching. “Baby, say something-“ he urges, and you meet his eyes, visibly struggling to speak. “Baby?” He reads the look in your face; you’re okay, you’re just overwhelmed, and he grins, dipping his head down to kiss your neck.

“Oh!” You manage, hips snapping up. “Brendon-“ you gasp and he’s watching you, smiling widely as he tries to catch his breath, hair plastered to his forehead as he watches you tremble. “Brendon…” He kisses your forehead, hand stroking your hair as you come down. “Jesus,” you whisper helplessly, clinging to his shoulders. “Brendon.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Fuck,” you sigh in pleasure. “Did you- I’m sorry, I was so - that was so intense- I didn’t even notice if-“

“I didn’t,” he murmurs, and you frown. “I’m okay-“

“No,” you protest, moving under him tentatively, gasping in pleasure as he rubs against you. “You gotta-“

“Baby,” he groans, thrusting again. “Can I- can I be-?”

“Please,” you whimper, your nails digging into his back. “Please.” He resumes his brutal pace, muffling your cries of pleasure with his mouth for a moment, before wrenching his lips away to moan your name.

“Y/n, babygirl, you feel so-“ he breaks off to try to catch his breath. “I can’t - you’re just-“ and he gasps as you squeeze around him and roll your hips up to meet him, chanting his name and gripping his shoulders. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna make me come,” he whispers, eyes shut tight. “I’m gonna-“ Before he can finish the thought, you press both hands firmly to his chest and push him off of you, flat onto his back. You scramble onto your knees and take him in your mouth, squeezing your hand around the base, coaxing his orgasm out of him. “Fuck, baby,” Brendon groans, as his cock twitches in your mouth and you swallow around him eagerly. You’re making soft, pleased sounds as you taste him and his hands are in your hair and stroking your face as he praises you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs, dropping his hips into the mattress to avoid thrusting into your mouth and gagging you, despite your earlier wishes. You take him deeper, lips tightening around his slick length and he grunts softly as you swallow the last he has to give.

“Yum,” you comment, sitting back on your heels and licking your lips. “God, I could do that forever.” He grins and you lean forward to give his length one long, slow lick, your tongue curling around the crown before you collapse next to him. His arms wrap around you and you snuggle in close. “I won’t swallow your cum forever, because you can’t get me pregnant like that and we both want me pregnant eventually, but…” Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trace over your stomach. “God, you taste so good.” You can feel him stir against you and you wiggle against him. “Mr. Urie, your cock getting thick and hard for me again?”

“Just thinking about getting you pregnant,” he murmurs, hand moving in soft circles over your stomach. “Turning me on so much, thinking about it. Making love to you, coming in you, getting you pregnant. Want you to have my baby.”

“I’m gonna,” you remind him, kissing his neck. “When the time is right.” He nods and kisses the top of your head, reaching to pull the blankets over you both. “Goodnight Mr. Urie,” you murmur, clutching him close.

“Goodnight Mrs. Urie. I love you so much.” His arms tighten around you as you both drift off.

-||-

He turned off his alarm, so you woke up to him kissing your shoulder. “Morning, my beautiful wife,” Brendon tells you, reaching down to cup your ass with both hands. “I don’t plan on doing anything other than this and breakfast before the dance tonight.”

“No?” You giggle and wrap a leg around his waist. He shakes his head and peppers kisses up your neck and over to your lips. “I’m okay with that,” you say with a yawn. “We’ll move down to the couch at some point, I assume, for breakfast?”

Brendon shakes his head. “I was going to bring it up here so we could really stay in bed all day.”

“I can be good with that,” you comment, closing your eyes as he draws you closer. “I can definitely be good with that.”

-||-

“You’re gorgeous,” Brendon murmurs, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around you as you do your makeup. “Absolutely gorgeous. How do you do it?”

“Contouring,” You quip and he spanks you lightly. You grin and relax into his arms against his chest. “Thank you, baby.”

“My pleasure, babygirl. You’re going to show up all the other girls at the dance. Boys are going to be tripping over themselves to ask you to dance. I’ll probably have to punch a teenager tonight,” Brendon muses. You giggle and shake your head. “No? I can’t fight a student?”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” you tell him. “I don’t see it going well.” He shrugs and kisses your cheek. “Will you zip me up?” His mouth moves down your neck as his hands find your zipper and he pulls it up swiftly.

“Ready to go?” He pulls you flush against him and his hands cup your ass through your dress and you raise an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “I won’t get to grab you all night. I’m getting it out of my system now,” Brendon tells you with a smirk. “Your breasts are next; look out.” After a moment, he moves his hands up to your chest, lifting and cupping and rubbing at your nipples with his thumbs. His head falls back. “God, you’re perfect. If we had the time, I’d get on my knees right now and eat you out, really fuck you with my tongue, get you coming on my lips and tongue.” You inhale sharply and call him a tease. “I’ll deliver later,” he promises in a low voice. “Maybe even at homecoming, if I can convince you to let me.” You look at him with wide eyes and he grins, licking his lips. “God, I wanna eat your pussy. Alright, let’s go chaperone this thing.”

-||-

“I expected more work,” you tell him as his arms circle your waist and he pulls you in to dance slowly. “This doesn’t feel like chaperoning.”

“We’re an adult presence if something goes wrong. They want us to enjoy ourselves if possible.” He leans in, his breath hot on your ear. “I know how I could really enjoy myself.”

“Brendon,” you hiss, scandalized. “We’re not going to-“ he nods, telling you he knows, he knows. But wouldn’t it be fun? “Of course it would be fun,” you admit. He spins you out slowly and pulls you back, dipping you low and the kids around you clap. You blush. “But we’re not going to.”

“It’s all good,” Brendon comments. “There’s always the ride home. And if not then, I know where you sleep.” You laugh and slap his shoulder lightly, but he just grins and holds you close to keep dancing.

All in all, it’s a great night, you tell him as you lean against his chest. They’ve just crowned the homecoming king and queen, and the two of them are sharing their obligatory dance. “Ah, young love,” you comment in a low voice and Brendon bursts out laughing, trying to stifle it by burying his face in your neck. The couple appears to have never met and are standing at arms’ length, rotating on the spot, eyes darting back and forth, both searching for an escape.

“I love you,” Brendon whispers. “So much.” His grip on your waist tightens when Eric walks by; you feel Brendon stiffen behind you, clearly waiting for Eric to say something. Instead, his eyes dart over both of you and he waves sheepishly before continuing on. “Keep walking,” Brendon mutters, and you shake your head, grinning.

“He’s not going to do or say anything,” you tell him and Brendon scoffs, holding you close. “He doesn’t have a death wish.”

“Fair point,” Brendon muses, eyes still following Eric. “Because you know I would.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His hand moves from your waist to your left hand and he lifts it, playing with your engagement ring.

“This looks so good on you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. “I’m trying to think happy thoughts to distract myself from punching a teenager. Like how you’re my wife. And how we’re going to be out in Napa in a week for your conference and Thanksgiving, and then we have two weeks of school, and then we’ll be on our honeymoon.”

“Those are happy thoughts,” you confirm with a smile. “This should be winding down in an hour or so; we’ll grab food on our way home and snuggle up on the couch?”

“Yeah, baby. And then I have a promise to keep,” he murmurs. You blush and he grins, patting your ass surreptitiously. “God, I’m hungry.”

-||-

“Strip.” His eyes are needy and you grin, grabbing his hands and moving them to your back so he can unzip your dress. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, watching your dress hit the floor. His thumbs hook into the edges of your panties and he tugs them down, eyes on yours. “So fucking beautiful. And mine. All mine.” You kick your heels off and step closer, sighing happily when his hands grab your thighs and pull you even closer. He presses his lips to your stomach, eyes on yours. “I love you.”

“I love y-oh!” You sigh happily when he pulls you down on the couch and spreads your legs to settle between them. He runs his tongue across you, moaning in delight and you grab at his head, rolling your hips down against his mouth. “Brendon, fuck-“

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, licking you with broad strokes, eyes closed in pleasure. “My sweet girl, you taste so good.” His tongue moves over you while his fingers tease your clit and you’re whimpering and biting your lip. “Baby, don’t stifle it, let me hear you.”

“Oh fuck,” you moan helplessly. “Brendon- you’re so - god, lick my clit, eat me, baby - I need- I need-“

“Tell me what you need,” he urges you softly, kissing your inner thighs. “I’ll give it to you, baby. You know I’ll give it to you.”

“Fingers. Tongue. Lips,” you beg, gripping his head and rocking against his mouth. “Baby, make me come.” He grins and licks his lips before sliding two fingers in deep and spreading them as his tongue flies over your clit. “Yes,” you moan, “yes, just like that.” He’s pressing closer, fingers spreading and twisting and his tongue is rolling and thrusting against you. He moans and gasps against you, clutching your thigh with his free hand, and he’s murmuring something that you can’t quite make out, but he just keeps licking and sucking, his normal technique out the window as he eats you out almost frantically. “Bren-“ you whimper, “you’re-“

“Losing my goddamn mind over your hot pussy,” he gasps, resting his head on your thigh. “Sorry - I’m sure this isn’t good for -“

“It’s so good,” you cut him off. “It’s so good. It’s nothing like you normally are, but it’s so good; it’s like you can’t get enough of me; it’s like you can’t even think straight because you just want my pussy.”

“Can’t,” he agrees, breathing hard. “I’ll try to-“ he stops to catch his breath. “Try to calm down.” He closes his eyes and you run a hand through his hair.

“Don’t. It’s so good. Love watching you go crazy for me.” Your voice is soft and Brendon groans, leaning forward and suckling eagerly at the upper half of your core, lower lip sliding against you. He moves the hand from your thigh and shoves his pants down, fist wrapping around his erection. “Yeah baby, touch yourself while you eat my pussy,” you encourage breathlessly. “Fucking love watching you get yourself off.”

“Someone can still talk,” he muses, eyes dark with want. “Which means someone’s husband isn’t doing his job right.” You gasp when he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you let yourself open fully for him. “That’s it, baby,” Brendon says in a low voice. “That’s my good girl. Spread yourself. Use your fingers.” You whimper and reach down to slide two fingers against your lips and spread yourself for him. “Yes,” he sighs, rubbing your clit with his thumb as his tongue stiffens and slides into you between your fingers.

“Brendon!” You squeal, rocking against his face and he moans. He pulls back, tongue swirling as he goes to collect all of your juices, grunting in pleasure as he thrusts into his fist. “Baby, I’m gonna- Brendon- oh please - oh baby - Bren- Bren - I’m - I’m -“ you cut yourself off with a sharp cry feeling yourself contract and your climax rolling over your fingers, hot and slick, and onto his waiting tongue. He gasps and laps at your entrance eagerly as his hips buck and you feel him come, the warmth hitting your left calf.

“My babygirl tastes so good,” he moans before sliding his tongue in deep again, both hands gripping your hips now so he can hold you in place. He moves one hand back to your heat and he watches you. “Can my babygirl come one more time for me?” His fingers slide in and he curls them back, rubbing insistently. He smiles when you convulse, choking out his name as you coat his fingers and your thighs. “Once more?” He’s begging now and you falter, grinding hard against his hand. “Once more, Mrs. Urie. One more for me.” He adds a third finger and his thumb presses against your clit.

“Fuck!” You’re shrieking and bucking under him, eyes rolling back in your head as he fingers you through your climax. You’re shaking and he gathers you in his arms, kissing all over your face. “I can’t - not again,” you whimper and he shushes you, stroking your hair and murmuring sweet things and praise for doing so well. “I - oh my god that was - that was incredible,” you manage, closing your eyes as he presses his lips to your forehead. “I feel - I feel so fucking good.” He smiles and runs a hand through your hair, holding you close, both of your bodies slick with sweat and come. You’re both shivering and he grabs a blanket off of the back, spreading it over your bodies. You moan and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Bren?” He makes a soft sound against your skin, encouraging you to keep talking. “We’re gonna need to steam clean the couch tomorrow.”


End file.
